Powerless
by someblessedmonster
Summary: Johnny Smith is falling in love with a woman he's never met, and now he's foreseen her death. But they start to realize that their chance pairing perhaps isn't so coincidental... Sequel to Real. [Dead Zone Xover]
1. Losing Battle

**Legal Disclaimer:** _Buffy the Vampire Slayer_ and all characters belong to Joss Whedon, Fox, UPN and the WB. _The Dead Zone_ and all characters belong to Shawn & Michael Piller, Stephen King, Lion's Gate Television and USA Network. No profit is being made off of this and no copyright infringement is intended.

**A/N about this story:** A sequel to _Real_. Takes place BTVS post-S7 "Chosen" and DZ post-S4 "Vangaurd." (Thanks for all the great feedback).

**Ev-o-lu-tion** _(ev¡¯loo¨­shen) noun_

_1. One set of prescribed movements._

_2. The action or instance of forming or giving something off._

_3. The theory that groups of organisms change with passage of time, mainly as a result of natural selection and necessity, so that descendants differ morphologically and physiologically from their ancestors._

**1: Losing Battle**

Johnny Smith sat in a chair in his basement, glaring at a bulletin board littered with images and news clippings about one single subject: the end of the world. He stared at the pictures of Greg Stillson and those affiliated with him with growing disgust. This wall – the Armageddon wall – reflected the crowded, confused and incomplete state of his mind.

It had been nearly three years since he first received the infamous psychic vision predicting the coming apocalypse. And every day since then he has never been able to pry himself from it. But it seemed like every moment he got closer and closer to saving the world – Stillson somehow took it all away from him again. All that was left at the end of this day was this confused psychic musing in front of the Armageddon wall, adding one more broken piece of the dire puzzle.

Johnny's eyes found the face of a new addition to the wall – the face of his now deceased former science student prodigy, Alex Connors. After receiving a vision linking Alex's new invention to the end of the world, Johnny unwillingly told him about Stillson and Armageddon. Alex then sacrificed himself to protect his technology and the world from what could be.

Only hours had passed since Alex's funeral and Johnny found himself back here with a heavy, bitter heart. For the good of the world, at least it may have put Johnny one step ahead. But in his heart, he wished that he had never told Alex the future. Another thought passed through his mind – Rebecca.

Rebecca Caldwell had become the closest thing that Johnny had to "moving on" after waking up from his coma and realizing that he had lost the love of his life, Sarah, to destiny and another man. It had been the most serious relationship outside of Sarah that he had in over ten years. The one mistake that he made was to tell Rebecca why he was so obsessed with Greg Stillson and her murdered sister, Rachel Caldwell. Armageddon. His destiny to save mankind.

Rebecca, like any caring person, took the most drastic step. She bought a gun, traveled to Washington and was moments away from assassinating Stillson and getting herself killed when Johnny stormed in and stopped the situation. Rebecca and Stillson were both saved, but not Rebecca's romance with Johnny, which ended that day when she decided to return to her normal life. That was something that Johnny didn't have the luxury of returning to.

The fact is neither Rebecca nor Alex, nor could the only other person who knew the truth – his best friend, Bruce Lewis – truly understand the weight of the world. How could someone with so much to do have so little power to do it?

Johnny sighed, running his hands back through his blonde hair, and closed his blue eyes, shutting out Armageddon – but never completely. In the darkness he thought angrily and enviously.

Some superhero he was. He didn't really have any power. Not that of a politician or well-known reverend. The only thing he was well-known for is being a freak. He wished that he could have the power to stop Stillson, to save the world, to save his friends, and to save his son, J.J.

But the truth was cruel and simple. Even if the world was not destroyed, everyone he cared about – in one way or another – would pay. His destiny was final: to be alone.

Johnny opened his eyes as a gleam of light caught his attention. He gazed at the Armageddon wall curiously at a piece of the puzzle which he had never seen before. He stood up from the chair and walked over to the wall, eyeing an object dangling from a push pin. It was a simple silver cross a little less than three inches long, that hung from a silver chain. He was sure he'd never seen it before – but how did it get on the board?

He reached out for the cross, but hesitated briefly before making contacts. Johnny stared at the cross ominously for a few moments, considering the things he might find. He then reached out and made contact, triggering a vision.

_A young, petite woman with blonde hair collapsed on the floor, her neck covered in blood. Behind her, an old painting of a crowded town square with bright vivid colors stuck in Johnny's mind. The woman on the floor looked up at Johnny helplessly, her green eyes flashing with fear as she lost consciousness and died._

Johnny jumped as he dropped the cross on the ground and stared at it in fear. He reached up for his neck and swallowed hard as he bent down and picked the necklace up by the chain and gazed at it in confusion.

* * *

Johnny paced around his living room as Bruce sat on his couch, flipping through an art history book. "Thanks for coming again, Bruce," Johnny declared. "I really appreciate it." 

"Hey, man, you call me in the middle of the night in my deepest of sleep," Bruce answered as he continued to scan through the pages, "of course I'm gonna come over." He sighed, "Besides, sleep is overrated."

"Coffee?" John offered with a hint of guilt.

"No, thanks," he replied. "Now you said you saw a girl dying in front of this painting?"

Johnny nodded, crossing his arms as he came to a still stand, "Yeah. It was like nothing I've ever seen. She was so scared and confused…" He pushed the horror of her death out of his mind momentarily. "We have to find her."

"And how did her necklace randomly pop up in your house?"

"Not sure," Johnny said, shaking his head. "It's literally like I closed my eyes and it was there."

Bruce shook his head. "That's impossible, Johnny. Not unless you've undertaken the supreme power of teleporting." He turned the page as a color picture sprang up at him. "Got it. Is this what you saw?" He lifted up the picture of the painting and Johnny recognized it instantly.

"That's it."

"Manet's La Musique aux Tuileries," he declared. "A classic." Bruce opened his laptop and typed the information into a search engine. "Found it," Bruce said a few moments later, then paused with a curious expression. "Johnny, this painting's in L.A. right now. If the painting and the necklace are linked, how could it have gotten here?"

Johnny shook his head as he stared at the crowd of the painting. "I'm not sure," he answered with uncertainty.

Bruce shook his head with a defeated sigh, full of confusion. He then shrugged and stated sarcastically, "Well, it's only 2000 miles away…"

Johnny turned away from the computer with a dark expression, "So are our answers."

* * *

The moon glittered down over Sunnydale Park as Buffy Summers sat tiredly on a park bench with a grim expression. She kept her white raincoat around her for warmth as she stared hopelessly at a carousel next to a jungle-gym which was littered with flowers, cards, lit candles and crosses – a makeshift memorial to two deceased children. 

Buffy inhaled the night air fragilely, but then felt a comfort as she heard a familiar voice. "There's something wrong," her friend told her with an inquisitive tone. She looked over at the blonde, tanned, late-thirties man sitting beside her in his black leather jacket and his silver-headed cane resting beside him. His blue eyes bore a hole into her soul as they always did. Staring at them she felt a great consolation and warmth from within her heart.

"Am I that obvious?" Buffy asked with a half-smile.

"You don't have to tell me if you don't want to," he answered.

She smiled, turning away and shaking her head. "That's never a problem." She stared at the alter of gifts as she mused within herself. "You're right. Something isn't right."

"What?"

"That's just the problem," she answered, turning to him. "I don't know what it is. I just feel… like something is wrong."

"On the inside?" he asked curiously. "Or the out?"

She turned her gentle face towards him, her blonde hair framing her soft, lost features as she quietly replied, "Both." He gazed at her with deep concern as he turned his body towards her, giving her more than full attention. Buffy sighed, "Ever since I came back from Heaven… I knew there was no way I could ever feel as whole as I did then. I've come to terms with that. But now… I feel even more incomplete than before. Something really is missing, but I have no idea what it is."

"Are things okay with Dawn?" he suggested.  
"Her grades are great and she's not stealing anything," Buffy answered, receiving a semi-amused look from her companion before his expression turned serious. Buffy understood his expression and sobered her own. "She's happy," she explained. "I'm there for her."

"And your friends?"

"When they're not busy doing other things," Buffy answered. "I'm right there." A few moments of silence passed between them as Buffy listened to the crickets that hid in the blades of dark grass of the park around them.

"Are you really?" he asked. She turned to him and knew she could not avoid explanation.

Hesitantly, she began, "I don't understand it. More and more I feel further and further away from my friends and my sister."

He responded, "It's not because you're the only one."

"I know," she said, shaking her head. "It's not that. It's… beyond that. Beyond being the… or, a Slayer." The words faded away as she stared out at the park setting, her eyes fixated on the low-hanging moon.

"What are you afraid of, Buffy?" he asked her, flat out.

She turned to him, stunned, but considered her answer for a few moments. Buffy replied, "What if… it's not done? What if everything I've done has been for nothing?"

"I thought you told me it was finished."

"But what if it's not? What if we made it worse?" Buffy continued to mull over it, her eyes getting wide with worry. "What if everything my friends and I have ever done has been for a future that doesn't exist? What if there's something that we just… can't stop?" She sighed, summing up simply, "What if it's not over?"

"It's not," he replied simply. His statement was so cold and simple it chilled her to the bone. She turned to him in confusion as slowly, memories started coming back to her.

_The fire._

Buffy slowly stood up from the bench, staring down at him, perplexed. "You…" she said, her voice barely above a whisper. "You… showed me." He stared up at her, unmoving as she shook her head. "You're… trying to tell me… What? I-I don't understand…"

He came to a stand and stared directly into her eyes. "I need you."

Fear gripped her heart as the violent, bloody images crept into her mind. She breathed, "Those people…"

"You don't have to stop this," he declared.

"Yes, I do," Buffy exclaimed, tears brimming as she struggled to catch her breath. "If I don't, who else will?"

He grabbed her by the forearms and gazed into her fiercely with desire. "I will," he replied. "You're not alone. I'll protect you." Buffy stared at him in a trance as he leaned down and kissed her gently.

_A blood-curdling scream ripped through her mind. She saw a blonde, chiseled man with a strong jaw in an expensive suit leaning over a desk with the Presidential Seal on it. In the next instant she saw the Washington Monument consumed with flames. The final image in her mind was the President gazing up at a fiery sky covered in a wash of blood with a maniacal smile twisting his face. A demonic, ebony color covered both eyes completely. _

Buffy's green eyes popped open with a horrified gasp as she realized that she was standing alone on the sidewalk of the park. She looked around from side to side but her friend was nowhere to be found. After the pain in her head subsided, she suddenly felt a numbing sting on the left side of her neck. She felt a tingle of warm liquid drip down her shoulder as she reached up and touched the source. When she looked down at her hand, she saw her own blood drip from her fingers.

Buffy's eyes lifted from the sight of her blood to see her friend standing near a tree a few meters away. However he was now without his cane and dressed in a simple blue t-shirt and jeans. He gazed at her in wide-eyed horror as if he'd never seen her before as she lost consciousness and collapsed on the sidewalk.

* * *

Johnny gasped as his eyes opened revealing the ceiling of the Smith Library. He sat straight up from the chair with the book of artwork that Bruce had left for him lying on his chest. Disturbed, Johnny struggled to regain his composure from the horridly vivid nightmare. 

The woman had stared straight at him as if she could see him. As if she knew him. That had never happened… except for once that he could recall. He looked at the time – it was 3:07 in the morning. He reached for the telephone on the desk and began to dial…


	2. Puzzle

**LEGAL A/N:** _Buffy the Vampire Slayer_ and all characters belong to Joss Whedon, Fox, UPN and the WB. _The Dead Zone_ and all characters belong to Shawn & Michael Piller, Stephen King, Lion's Gate Television and USA Network. No profit is being made off of this and no copyright infringement is intended.

**NOTE FROM THE AUTHOR:** Post-BTVS S7 "Chosen" and post-DZ S4 "Vangaurd".

**2: Puzzle**

Johnny took his seat next to Bruce aboard the commercial airplane, both of them surrounded by dozens of people as the dawn was breaking on the East Coast. Bruce tiredly plopped down in his chair as he looked over at Johnny with utter confusion as to how he was able to get Bruce on the plane.

"I just don't understand it," Bruce shook his head as the rest of the passengers on Flight 815 sat down and prepared for takeoff. "You call me up in the middle of the night and tell me to get on a plane and like some fool without any regard for my sleep patterns or job… I do."

"Hey," Johnny shrugged carelessly, "what have I told you before? Where I go, you go."

Bruce answered, "Yeah, but if I go to the unemployment line, you don't."

"I really do need your help, Bruce," Johnny explained seriously. "I don't think I can handle this one alone."

Bruce looked over at his sobering expression. "I've told you before, John. I've got your back, but…" Bruce shook his head in confusion. "What are you talking about? You're Johnny Smith. Of course you can handle it. I mean, you're the one with all the power."

The sound of the word burned into his brain. He frowned and shook his head bitterly as he looked away. "I don't even know what that means anymore," he answered. His response bothered Bruce as he stared at the unresponsive psychic. Johnny stared out the window as the plane began to take off as he added, "Maybe I don't have the power to stop Stillson, Bruce. Maybe I never did."

"What are you saying?"

"How can I save the world?" Johnny asked bluntly, turning to him defensively. "I can't even save my student."

Bruce's face fell flat. "This is about Alex…"

"This is about everyone," John said. "This girl… I don't know if I can save her. I don't know if I can save anyone anymore." With a grim expression he gazed out the world falling away from him through the airplane window as they moved further and further into the sky. "What if my power… was never enough?"

Bruce stared at him in silence, not knowing how to respond. He turned towards the front of the plane as the two of them sat somberly, listening to the whir of their own troubles and fears.

* * *

Johnny and Bruce walked into the Greater Los Angeles Museum of Art just a few minutes after it opened. Already there was a mass of people scanning the paintings on the walls and the statues on display. A man dressed in a suit with a tag on his lapel walked through as Johnny quickly asked, "Excuse me. Do you know where I can find Manet's La Musique aux Tuileries?"

The young man turned towards a hallway and replied, "Right down that hall, near the Art Restoration room."

"Thanks," Bruce nodded as he and Johnny continued on the assigned path. They came to a display room as a handful of people moved around slowly. Johnny's eyes lay on the painting and widened.

"Bruce, there it is," he said, pointing to the painting.

"Wow," he responded. "I love Manet. This is one of my favorites." A man in a construction outfit carrying a ladder walked past them as they watched him set the ladder against a wall in the room. Just then, a tall, petite woman with blonde hair tied back in a bun approached them wearing a blazer with a nametag on her lapel.

"Ooh, excuse me," she grinned with a bubbly attitude.

"Oh, no problem," Johnny answered, reading the name on her tag. "Are we in your way, Fiona?"

"Not at all," she responded. "I'm so sorry; you'll have to excuse us. They're about to do a little construction in this room. This museum has been renovated since 1995."

"Really?" Johnny said, taking note of the information. He pointed to Manet's painting and asked, "So, this painting has been here for ten years?"

"More like seven," Fiona nodded. "But you're lucky. We were just about to take it off display today. So… enjoy!" With a wide smile, the woman walked off as she heard a crash in another section of the hallway. "Ooh, be careful with that!" she shouted and ran off.

Johnny and Bruce gave each other a knowing look. Johnny turned to the wall where they were standing and rested his outstretched fingers on it, triggering a vision.

_A pale-skinned man in a black, button-up shirt stood in front of the painting with a mass of people standing around him. He stared at the crowd comfortably, peeking at the security guards at the corners of the room with his dark eyes momentarily before returning to the crowd. _

"And this brings us to Manet's incomparable 'La Musique aux Tuileries,'" he declared. Johnny watched from the corner as the tour guide turned to the painting and added, "First exhibited in 1863."

The guide stared at a particular face of the painting, and then continued, "On the left one spies the painter himself. In the middle distance is the French poet and critic Baudelaire, a friend of the artist. Now, Baudelaire… interesting fellow. In his poem 'Le Vampyre' he wrote: 'Thou who abruptly as a knife didst come into my heart.'" The guide looked around a bit nervously and replied, "He, uh, strongly believed that evil forces surrounded mankind. And some even speculated that the poem was about a real vampire."

The crowd broke into quiet laughter which he joined in on. His smile faded as he seriously added, "Oh… and, uh, Baudelaire was actually a little taller and a lot drunker than he is depicted here." Johnny curiously watched the guide pull away from the crowd as they applauded his performance and disappear in the shadows of the hallway.

Johnny opened his eyes again in confusion as he gazed around at the room and the painting. "What happened?" Bruce asked.

"There was a guy," Johnny answered with uncertainty. "Some tour guide. He was explaining the history of the painting…" He shook his head in puzzlement. "There was something familiar about him."

"A guy?" Bruce repeated. "I thought we were looking for a girl."

"We are," he sighed.

"So your Dead Zone gave you some random vision?" Bruce asked.

"Doesn't usually work that way, does it?" Johnny responded, mulling over it. He looked at the painting and stepped towards it, eyeing Baudelaire with curious eyes. Glancing around to see that no one was watching him, he reached out and touched the surface of the painting.

_A middle-aged woman with blonde curls stood over the painting with an inquisitive face. A delivery man stood on one side of her and a man in a suit stood on the other. Johnny appeared from behind them, watching the scene as they stood in a restoration room that was too small for Los Angeles' art gallery. He eyed the nametag of the woman: Joyce. _

With a nod from Joyce a box was placed on the table marked Sunnydale Shipping Company. Joyce walked over to her desk and began to write out an invoice for the delivery. Johnny followed her as a framed picture on the woman's desk popped out at him. The smiling face of the doomed, beautiful, blonde young woman gazed at him with sparkling green eyes.

Johnny looked up at the painting as he pulled his hand away. He stared at the painting in amazement, the face of the captivating woman burning into his memory. "Your mom," he whispered as the realization came over him.

Bruce blinked in confusion. "That's not nice."

Johnny turned to him. "No – the girl's mom. She worked in an art gallery." Johnny faced the painting again as he stepped back and viewed it whole. "She's the one that sent this to L.A."

Bruce asked in utter confusion, "This girl's been in contact with the painting before?"

"Her mother has," he shrugged.

"How do you know your vision's not from the past?" he asked. "She might already be dead."

"She's not dead."

"But—"

"I've seen her," Johnny declared, turning to him. Bruce stared at him, baffled as Johnny walked away from the painting without explanation.

Bruce rushed up to him. "What do you mean?"

"I had a dream, Bruce," Johnny hesitantly admitted as they walked through the museum towards the front. "It wasn't like any vision I've ever had. The girl was standing in a park near a bench and she looked up at me…" He shook the terror out of his mind. "Her eyes… it's like they were screaming for me to help her."

"What happened?" Bruce asked.

Johnny answered, "Her neck was bleeding like her throat had been cut or bitten…"

"Bitten?" Bruce repeated, almost coming to a stop.

Johnny continued, ignoring how strange it sounded. "She looked at me, fell down and died," he declared. "The whole thing was so real."

"She looked at you," Bruce said, thinking deeply. "That's the same thing you said about Christopher Wey."

He shook his head skeptically. "It was different."

Bruce shrugged and replied, "Maybe it was only a nightmare – some sort of psychological response to seeing this girl die in your vision."

"I'm not crazy," Johnny said, snapping at him. Bruce stared at Johnny, stunned as he reeled back. Johnny looked away, embarrassed by his outburst. "I… I'm sorry, man," he apologized. "I didn't mean to—"

"John, you've been under a lot of pressure," he answered with deep concern. "I think it's beginning to change you. You need to get some rest."

Johnny looked down at the ground and didn't respond for several seconds until he finally answered, "Look. Let's just get to a computer. I need to find out how to get to Sunnydale."


	3. Haunted

**LEGAL A/N:** _Buffy the Vampire Slayer_ and all characters belong to Joss Whedon, Fox, UPN and the WB. _The Dead Zone_ and all characters belong to Shawn & Michael Piller, Stephen King, Lion's Gate Television and USA Network. No profit is being made off of this and no copyright infringement is intended.

**NOTE FROM THE AUTHOR:** Sequel to Real. Post-BTVS S7 "Chosen" and post-DZ S4 "Vangaurd"

**3: Haunted**

Bruce sat in a chair at a table inside a hotel room a few hours later in Los Angeles as Johnny paced around behind him. "Could you sit down?" Bruce asked. "You're kind of making me nervous."

"Sorry," Johnny answered, sitting down as his foot got tangled in a wire connected to the laptop. Johnny sighed as he untangled his leg from the mess of wires below. "What is all this?"

"That's the microphone, I think," Bruce answered, keeping his attention on screen.

"Why do you need a microphone?" Johnny asked incredulously.

Bruce looked over at him. "Oh, didn't you hear?" Bruce said sarcastically. "I'm gonna lay down some tracks as a rapper." Johnny gave him a look as Bruce looked back at the computer with a tired sigh, shaking his head in bewilderment. "It's the same everywhere, Johnny," he said finally, giving up.

"Are you sure?" Johnny asked.

"Positive," Bruce answered. "There's no Sunnydale. Or at least, not anymore."

"What happened to it?"

"Funny thing, I can't get a straight answer anywhere," he replied. "Massive sinkhole destroyed the entire town."

"A whole town disappears?" Johnny repeated. "How come we didn't hear about it before?"

"There's not really much anywhere around that area," Bruce explained. "No art galleries. No Joyce."

"Another dead end," Johnny declared, staring down at the floor with his arms crossed. His blue eyes were dark with bitterness and disgust. Johnny turned and marched out of the hotel room, slamming the door behind him with a defeated expression.

"John!" Bruce called, jumping out of his seat to follow. "Johnny, wait."

* * *

The two of them sat at a table in a diner named Helen's Kitchen with coffee in front of them. Johnny stared out at the sky and watched the sunset with lonely, tired and beaten eyes. Everything about today has led him in circles and for all he knew the girl could be dead by now.

Maybe it was the thought of her dying which made him note the fading daylight even more. Whatever it was, something was different about watching the sun set. Being a former science teacher, it was certainly not something he had never done before. However, this sunset was remarkably different, as it sparked a deep feeling within him.

The thought now angrily burned inside him, sparking determination to save a woman that didn't deserve to die. He blinked in confusion after the thought passed through his mind.

_She didn't deserve to die._

Johnny was certain of it. However, he had never met her in his life. He had no idea who she was. And although he was taken by her beauty, he knew that was no assurance as to what kind of person she was. How could he be so sure?

His mind deep in contemplation, he leaned back in the chair, causing another vision to flash through his mind.

_Johnny looked around the diner as he sat in the chair to see a blur of people speed around him – all of them moving in reverse. The blur sped up so fast it was impossible to make out until a bright flash filled his eyes. Johnny looked around to see himself standing next to a table as two beefy, unkempt, roughneck men sat at the table with crooked and lecherous expressions directed at their waitress. Johnny looked over to see his eyes widen and find the object of his desire. _

The beautiful young blonde stood in a waitress' outfit at the same table Johnny and Bruce had been sitting at. Her green eyes were darkened with despair and boredom – like she had already died on the inside and a shell was moving about in her place. She stared down at an order pad as the two roughnecks giggled like schoolchildren.

"Is there anything else?" she asked jadedly.

"That'll do us, Peaches," one of them grinned, leering at her promiscuously.

The woman, obviously disgusted, ignored them to the best of her ability as she angrily ripped off the receipt and slapped their bill on the table. "Pay at the counter," she ordered coldly.

"Sure you don't want us to work it off for you?" the other roughneck smirked. She glared at him as his friend burst into laughter. The woman rolled her eyes and turned away from them as one of them reached out and smacked her on the behind. Johnny frowned as she paused in her steps. The two men howled with laughter.

Johnny watched her eyes – the eyes of a once-strong woman as she tore herself down and weighed her chances of confronting them. She balled her fists and walked away with her head low as the two men continued to snicker, watching her walk off in shame.

He followed her, enchanted and sympathetic to her plight. She served another young couple that was too infatuated with each other to even notice her. Moments later, Johnny saw her fleeting out of the back door and stopping in the alleyway. Johnny stood beside her as she leaned up against the brick wall of the building and fought back her tears of embarrassment and humiliation.

Johnny watched her reach for her chest and hold onto her heart. Just by standing next to her, he could feel the agonizing heartbreak inside of her. This was the pain of a person that had lost the love of their life. It was pain that Johnny understood too well.

His eyes fell upon her hand as a sparkle caught his attention. She pressed the silver cross against her chest, pulling at it for protection and sanctity.

Johnny looked up at Bruce who was staring at him intently, waiting for his reply. "You just had another vision, didn't you?" Bruce asked. Johnny was stunned, to say the very least.

"She was here before," he replied.

He blinked in surprise. "No way."

Johnny shook his head in amazement. "It's a small world."

"Did she live here?"

"I don't think so. She was running away."

"From what?"

Johnny stared up at him grimly as he replied, "Pain."

Bruce considered the answer as thoughts flowed through his mind. "I think there's more to this than we think, Johnny," he suggested. "There are way too many coincidences here to…"

Johnny stared at Bruce in confusion. His lips were moving, but he could no longer hear his voice. In fact, he couldn't hear the voices of the people in the diner, nor any other sound save for the beating of his own heart. His eyes pulled away from Bruce and found a figure leaning over the bar across the room.

A pale-faced man in his late-twenties finished his glass of Jack Daniels and slapped it down on the counter. The tall man with slicked-back platinum blonde hair dressed in a black, leather duster jacket, black clothes, and black combat boots gave John an eerie feeling. He watched as the strange man slapped the money down, pulled away from the counter and strutted towards the door leisurely as if he owned the ground he walked on. Johnny's eyes followed him as he came to a stand.

"Johnny?" Bruce called for his attention, but received no reply. "Johnny?" He followed John's point of view to see the Billy Idol wanna-be walk out of the diner as Johnny began to follow him curiously.

Johnny kept his eyes on the man as he walked out of the diner, moving through the door and onto the street. His attention was completely taken with the entity before him.

_Entity._

There he went again.

"John, look out!" he heard Bruce's voice stress suddenly. Johnny was pulled back to reality as the bright headlights and the screeching tires of speeding car threw him off guard. Johnny looked over to see the Porsche headed towards him at top-speed and he felt a strong hand grip his back.

_Oh, no,_ he thought. _Not now…_

_Johnny looked around and found himself standing in the middle of a library near the front desk. He turned to a short, blonde man in his thirties with glasses and his hair neatly combed in a tight suit. The nerdy, awkward man had a shameful expression as he cleared his throat and declared in a British accent, "You haven't an enormous amount of time." _

Johnny looked over to see several people standing and sitting at the other end of the library at a large table with grim expressions. One of them, a teenager with black curly hair in a Hawaiian shirt declared with cutting, sarcastic glee, "Hey! It's Mr. States-the-Obvious!"

"The council is not welcome here," a familiar voice declared with clouded frustration. Johnny turned to see HER sitting in a chair facing away from him. The nerdy man shamefully stared at the side of her face as she added, "I have no time for orders. If I need someone to scream like a woman, I'll give you a call."

Her bitterness cut the man deeply as he gathered his strength and replied, "I'm not here for the council. I'm here to help." Johnny watched her eyes raise up and look over at him, resting on him with surprise. She gazed at him with a grateful expression as she forgave him for all his wrongdoings.

Johnny stared into her eyes as a single word popped into his mind.

Johnny was yanked back out of the street and out of the path of the speeding car in a flash. He and the man behind him fell to the ground as the angry horn of the speeder honked at them as it flew by. Johnny came to his senses as he looked up at the man standing before him who had saved his life.

The nerdy man was anything but. He stood tall without glasses and a suede leather jacket. His face was unshaven and his blonde hair was spiky and cut short. Johnny stared at him in confusion, uncertain if this was even the same man.

"You should be careful," the ex-nerd declared to him in a semi-British tone. It was him. He extended a hand and helped Johnny back onto his feet. "This city can be dangerous," he explained ominously. Johnny eyed him in amazement, but couldn't bring himself to form words.

"Wes!" they heard from a distance. A dark-skinned man dressed in an expensive button-up dress shirt came bounding down the sidewalk carrying a cell phone. "We got the call. Angel's got them." Without another word or thought, 'Wes' ran off, following the man into the darkness and out of sight.

Bruce ran up to Johnny and pulled him aside. "Johnny, what the hell's wrong with you?" he demanded in shock, staring at him. Johnny couldn't focus on anything in the world at that moment, least of all Bruce.

"They know Buffy," Johnny breathed, the world slowly slipping into a dizzying blur.

"Who's Buffy?" Bruce exclaimed.

"The girl…" Johnny explained. "The girl we're trying to… to save."

"What kind of a name is that?" Bruce said to himself as Johnny grabbed his arm for balance. Bruce suddenly took note of the fact that John was teetering on the edge of consciousness.

"We have to find her…" Johnny breathed before he fell to the ground, collapsing unconsciously.

* * *

Buffy stood inside her bedroom as the moonlight shined down on her face through the blinds covering her window. She looked over at her companion, still dressed in the same attire as he stood as a king with his cane in hand. Her eyes idly glanced over at her desk to see an awful sight. Her journal was left lying open when she was positive that it hadn't been before.

"You've been reading my diary?" Buffy declared with wide eyes. After a few moments, she calmed herself down and was overcome with more confusion than anger.

"I've been trying to find you," he answered.

Buffy turned to him with a baffled face. "Wait – like, in the real world way of finding me?" He nodded simply as she shook her head. "I-I don't understand."

"There's a reason…" he declared, catching her full attention again. "You and me."

"The fire," Buffy whispered, remembering. She looked up at him, "What does it mean? What is it?"

"The end," he answered. "Of everything you've sacrificed to save."

"When?" she exclaimed, deeply distressed. "When is it going to happen?"

He shook his head sadly. "You're asking me for answers I wish I had."

Buffy closed her eyes fearfully as she declared, "I have to stop it."

"No," he responded. "You can't."

She stressfully gazed up at him. "If I don't, who else will?"

"I will," he declared to her, taking her by the shoulders. Again, she found herself lost. "You're not alone. I'll protect you." Buffy stared at him in utter confusion.

"From what?" she asked, shaking her head.

He gazed at her motionlessly for a few moments, then pulled back her blonde hair. Buffy glanced down to see blood dripping down her chest. He reached out and touched her bloody wound.

_A massive explosion sent a shockwave of fire through Washington, D.C. as it was ripped to shreds and incinerated by the force of the flames. The blonde man Buffy recognized as the President lifted his head and his eyes opened to reveal that they were blacked out, striking a nerve of terror inside._

Buffy gasped in horror and collapsed on the floor unconsciously. Johnny Smith stared down at the woman he now recognized as Buffy as she fell to the ground before his eyes. He stared at her lovely face and the gash on her neck in confusion. What happened? What horrible being did this?

Johnny's heart nearly skipped a beat as Buffy's green eyes suddenly opened. They found him and stared straight through him. He stared at her, eyes widened in fear, as she gazed at him and declared with a hallow tone.

"There's still time."

* * *

Johnny sat up in his bed with a scream. His eyes shot around the unfamiliar room as Bruce barged through the door from the adjoining living room of the hotel suite. "What happened?" Bruce exclaimed, stunned. "Johnny, what's wrong?"

He gasped for air and struggled to keep his heart from pumping out of his chest. His eyes continued to dart around the room until they caught sight of the digital clock. It was 3:07 in the morning. Bruce stood by his bed as Johnny tried to make sense of it all. "She was back," Johnny declared with uncertainty. "She was in my dream."

"Buffy?" Bruce asked.

Johnny's words began to slur and stutter together. "She… she was already dead and-and she looked at me and talked to me…"

"Johnny, slow down," Bruce said.

"I have to find her," he declared.

"Johnny!" Bruce called loudly, finally grabbing his attention. "It was just a dream."

Johnny looked down and became stone still. "No." He lifted his hand and gazed at it in horror and bewilderment. "It's not a dream," he declared. Bruce looked down to see blood dripping from Johnny's fingers. "It's real."


	4. Redux

**LEGAL A/N:** _Buffy the Vampire Slayer_ and all characters belong to Joss Whedon, Fox, UPN and the WB. _The Dead Zone_ and all characters belong to Shawn & Michael Piller, Stephen King, Lion's Gate Television and USA Network. No profit is being made off of this and no copyright infringement is intended.

**NOTE FROM THE AUTHOR:** Sequel to Real. Post-BTVS S7 "Chosen" and post-DZ S4 "Vangaurd"

**4: Redux**

The Sheriff of Penobscot County, Walt Bannerman, stood in his office the next morning with the receiver to his ear while the tiny television set on the desk blared the news. Outside of the office, a multitude of police officers moved to and fro in front of the windows, carrying about their business of making Bangor, Maine the safest place that they could. He stared down at a file folder in his hands as he sat down in his chair, skimming the information within quickly.

"Sunnydale, California," Walt read aloud on the phone. "Last known population: 32,900. It was about two hours northwest of Los Angeles. One of those one-main-street towns. It used to have a University of California campus nearby."

"In a town that small?" Bruce asked as he sat in the passenger's seat of a rental car. Johnny sat in the driver's seat as the cell phone was mounted between them on speakerphone.

"A lot of businesses seemed to fail there for one reason or another," Walt continued. "There was an excess of abandoned buildings and structures."

"Can you tell us anything else about the town, Walt?" Johnny asked. "Some sort of crime or unsolved murder?"

"Plenty," he scoffed. "The town had one of the highest death rates in the country. There are a lot of continuity errors in the police reports – apparently the Sunnydale Police Department lacked a lot organization. Most of the deaths and injuries were categorized as 'drug-related problems.' PCP and such."

Walt's attention was pulled away from the phone conversation by the TV set as he searched for the remote. He glanced at the anchorman as he went over international news, including an Egyptian politician's election, a tragic Indonesian plane crash, and a bounty for a patient that escaped from an Italian asylum.

He muted the television set as Johnny asked, "What about a high school?"

"Sunnydale High School," Walt answered. "It was rebuilt in 2002 after being closed forthree years. There was an explosion that destroyed the entire school during a graduation ceremony in 1999. The town's mayor was said to have been killed in the blast. There was a brief investigation, but it's pretty sketchy. It was ruled as an accident finally." Walt lifted his head from the file. "Is any of this helping you?"

"I don't know," Johnny said, shaking his head. "I've got a million pieces floating around in my head. I'm just trying to put it together."

"What's going on, John?" Walt asked.

"I can't explain now," Johnny answered flatly. "Thanks for your help, Walt." Without another word, he ended the call leaving Walt confused and a bit worried on the other end of the line.

Johnny looked over to see Bruce with the same expression as Walt's. "The man's got a good question," Bruce declared. "What is going on? And what's with you following that guy into the street last night?"

"Like I said," Johnny sighed, shaking his head, "I can't explain it. I… had to follow him. Something was driving me."

"What? Your Dead Zone?"

"I don't know. It has something to do with Buffy, though. I just know it."

"We're getting nowhere, Johnny," Bruce exclaimed. "All we know is that this woman's going to die. And we're not even sure she's not dead already."

"I know that!" Johnny snapped back. He declared strongly with a sense of urgency, "I don't know what to do or how to find, all I know is that I just have to." They were both silent as Johnny stared ahead at the open road as the car traveled diligently through the desert. Bruce studied his face with an intent expression.

"There's something more to this, isn't there?" Bruce suggested, eyeing the psychic. "There's something you're not telling me." Johnny remained silent, staring at the road ahead as the car came to a slow stop.

Bruce looked in front of him out the windshield and saw absolutely nothing. "We're here," Johnny declared, getting out of the car.

Bruce stared at the empty road ahead before getting out himself. "We are?" The bright sun beat down on both of them as they walked away from the parked car. The desert terrain surrounded them, but in the distance they could hear the sounds of coastal waves and seagulls squawking nearby. In the road ahead, a cement guard wall lay across the road with three orange road signs proclaiming that the road was a dead end.

Johnny stared at the signs momentarily, pausing in his steps. With a sigh, he ignored them and stepped over the cement wall, Bruce following. About fifty meteors away from the wall, they could see the reason for the signs.

All that was left of Sunnydale lay before them – a massive crater in the Earth that soaked up all the sun it could. They gazed across the several-mile-wide hole in astonishment, the complete devastation amazing them. Both of them were completely speechless as Johnny walked closer to the edge, moving steadily one foot at a time.

_The voice of a teenage girl broke through his thoughts. "Yeah, Buffy. What are we gonna do now?" Johnny saw a bright, clear day like the one he was experiencing and the crater lay before him. He looked over to his right and saw Buffy, tired and sweaty, standing with her arms crossed and a cut across her forehead. _

He faced her and gazed at her intently, watching as the sound of that phrase filled her face with warmth. She beamed happily, finding a peace that Johnny hadn't ever seen in her eyes. Watching her smile only drew his heart closer to her.

Johnny came out of the vision and glanced around in the area, wanting to stay where he was. "Johnny?" Bruce called, pulling him even further back to reality. He remembered what they were there for as he turned back towards the devastated town with a face of resolve.

He took a deep breath and rubbed his palms together as he crouched down. Johnny stared at the ground closely as he rested the outstretched fingers of his hand on the asphalt of the road.

_Johnny looked up to see the edge of the road rise out of the ashes of the crater and recreate itself. He came to a stand and walked out on the road as it materialized in front of him. Gazing around, he watched as the entire town destructed in reverse – every grain of sand, every stone, every tree, every building lifting out of the hole and rebuilding itself in front of him. _

He followed the road into the town as houses rose out of the ground. He found himself walking through a neighborhood of homes that looked a completely untainted and perfect Wisteria Lane. He stopped at one house in particular – a green-and-white, two-story home with two huge cedar trees in the yard. He walked passed the evergreen bushes in the yard, up the cement steps leading to the front door where he paused and viewed the house number: 1630.

Johnny entered through the open door and walked into a foyer with a staircase in front of him. Several teenage girls were standing in the foyer, all staring into the adjacent living room. From the living room, he could hear Buffy's soft voice speaking words of honor and honesty. He walked through the open double French doors to see over thirty people crowded around the living room, mostly including teenage women and three people he had recognized: the teenage boy with black curly hair who had grown up to be a man and sported an eye-patch over his left eye, a tall, middle-aged man with salt and pepper hair as he tiredly removed his glasses, and a shy young woman with long, red hair who stood quietly near the wall.

In the center of the room, standing in a delicate, white, button-up shirt and jeans with her long blonde hair falling at her shoulders was Buffy herself. "So here's the part where you make a choice," Buffy declared. "What if you could have that power… now? In every generation one Slayer is born because a bunch of men who died thousands of years ago made up that rule. They were powerful men."

Buffy pointed to her red-haired friend and added, "This woman is more powerful than all of them combined." The red-head blushed and whimpered at all the sudden attention. "So I say we change the rule," Buffy suggested. "I say my power should be our power."

Johnny walked through the living room and out of a door that led to an even bigger room that didn't belong in any house.

He entered a large brick room with mats laid on the floor, a mannequin standing in the corner and an Olympic vault on the side. Buffy stood wearing a black blouse with shorter, wavier hair tied back. She looked tired and beaten, however the middle aged man who stood near the doorway of the room looked even more so. Johnny watched as he struggled for breath as a woman appeared in the doorway wearing black from head-to-toe, complete with straight, short black hair and extremely pale skin. It was Buffy's red-haired friend from before, but she looked much scarier now. Dark veins stretched across her neck and face, along with a bloody cut across her cheek.

"That all you got, Jeeves?" she challenged with a half-smile. "'Cause I can stand to go another ten rounds." The man breathed heavily, standing nearly defeated in dirty, torn clothes. "Whereas you can barely stand," she smiled.

Johnny looked over to see Buffy standing on edge as her eyes moved back and forth between the two people she cared about. Her female friend let out a vicious snicker.

The man wearily answered in a British accent, "Your powers… may be undeniably greater. But I can still hurt you if I have to."

"Boy, you just don't get it, do you?" the black-haired woman boasted. "Nothing can hurt me now."

That caught Buffy's attention and wounded her deeply. Johnny walked over to her, watching carefully as she stared at her best friend in disgust and terror before she looked away suddenly, unable to stand the sight of someone that meant so much to her become such a horrible monster.

"This?" the woman added, her hand pointing to her bloody cut. With a wave of her hand, the cut vanished before their eyes. Johnny stared at her in amazement. "Is nothing," she declared bitterly. "It's all nothing."

"I see," he breathed tiredly. "If you lose someone you love… the other people in your life who care about you become meaningless." The dark-haired woman didn't know how to react for a few seconds as he added, "I wonder what Tara would have to say about that."

A flash of anger filled her eyes as she spat, "You can ask her yourself." She lifted her arm as Buffy flew into action, tackling the man out of the way of a sudden bolt of lightning that struck the beam he was leaning against.

Johnny watched in astonishment, but something else caught his attention. He turned around to face the doorway leading to another room. Buffy along with another group of people stood and sat around a table inside of a store of some sort. He looked to see a blonde woman in pajamas curled up in a chair, the red-haired woman sitting beside her protectively. The curly, black-haired young man sat beside another petite woman with blonde, curly hair. The man in the long, black leather duster that Johnny remembered from the diner stood in the corner against the wall. Buffy and the British middle-aged man stood on opposite ends of a table – all of them looked agitated and afraid.

"It's always got to be blood," the platinum blonde man declared in a Cockney British accent, joining the conversation they were already having.

"We're not actually discussing dinner right now," the black-haired young man quipped.

"Blood is life, lack-brain," he snapped back. "Why do you think we eat it? It's what keeps you going. Makes you warm. Makes you hard. Makes you other than dead." He quietly added, "Of course it's her blood."

"It's pretty simple math here," Buffy declared as she crossed her arms, standing more like a general than a southern Californian teenager. "We stop Glory before she can start the ritual. We still have a couple of hours, right?"

"If my calculations are right," the middle-aged man declared. "But Buffy…"

"I don't wanna hear it," Buffy snapped, cutting him off and turning away.

He replied, "I understand that—"

"No!" she shouted, whipping around to face him again. "No, you don't understand. We're not talking about this!"

"Yes, we bloody well are!" he snapped back, coming to a stand. Johnny looked around at the table to see everyone stunned and shocked into silence for several moments by his outburst. The middle-aged man controlled himself and quietly reiterated, "If Glory begins the ritual… if we can't stop her…" He let the words fade away.

"Come on," Buffy challenged. "Say it. We're bloody well talking about this. Tell me to kill my sister." A layer of ice covered her words as Johnny looked over at her in surprise.

"She's not your sister," the British man whispered in response.

Buffy silenced herself for several moments of consideration. She finally answered with a quiet tone herself, "No. She's not. She's more than that. She's me. The monks made her out of me. I hold her and I feel closer than…" The words faded away as Buffy looked down at the floor with a sigh of despair. Her head lifted up to face her friends as Johnny viewed her moment of pain. "It's not just the memories they built. It's physical. Dawn… is a part of me. The only part that I—"

She quieted her rant again and looked away. She turned her face towards Johnny as he viewed her expression of loss and confusion, knowing that no one in the room could understand her. Johnny's thoughts were again broken by a shout in another room.

"How can you possibly help?" he heard from the back doorway of the shop. Johnny walked through the door and found himself again in a place of residence. Four people stood in the living room of a well-furnished apartment.

In the kitchen, the British man stood with a bottle of alcohol in his hand, slightly tipsy as he stared down at the ground. The red-haired woman with shorter hair stood with a frown on her face and her arms wrapped around her. The curly-haired young man stood with his hands inside his pockets and a guilty expression. Buffy, bruised and beaten, stood in a dirty, white sweater as she glared at them in pain and anger.

"So…" she whispered as she disappointedly gazed at them. "I'm starting to understand why there's no ancient prophesy about a Chosen One… and her friends." With those damning words, Buffy turned around and headed for the front door, walking passed Johnny to pull her jacket off of the rack.

"If I need help I'll go to someone I can count on," she spat as she marched out of the door. Johnny followed her to another living room, but this one was decorated in a very contemporary manner.

Buffy stood in red leather pants and a black tank top with her black leather jacket over it as she squared off with another voluptuous young woman with thick, dark hair and pale skin. The other woman wore nearly all black, save for a white tank top and glared angrily at Buffy as the two of them were about to do serious battle.

"The Mayor got me the poison," she the other woman declared. "Said it was wicked painful."

"There's a cure," Buffy coldly declared.

"Damn," she sneered. "What is it?"

"Your blood," Buffy matter-of-factly stated. "As justice goes, it's not un-poetic, don't you think?"

"Come to get me? Gonna feed me to Angel? You know you're never gonna take me alive."

"Not a problem," she declared with angry eyes, the eyes of a brutal killer.

Johnny continued walking through the room, approaching two double doors as he opened them up. He looked out and saw the high school library that he remembered before in his vision of Wes. He entered the room and watched as Buffy, wearing a knee-length, baby blue jacket, leaned over the body of a dead teenage girl with brown skin and a slash across her throat. Johnny stared at the body ominously as Buffy's heart broke. He stared down at her as tears welled up in her eyes.

Johnny turned around to see Buffy standing with tears streaming down her face as she ripped the silver cross necklace from her throat and threw it on the ground. "I don't care!" she screamed in distress. Shaking her head, she quieted herself as she whispered, "I don't care."

Johnny stared at her painfully and looked over to see the British middle-aged man standing beside him with an overwhelmed expression, dressed in a tweed suit and glasses.

"Giles, I'm sixteen years old," she tearfully declared with a withering tone. "I don't want to die." Johnny's eyes shot towards her and held on her with exclamation. After saying that, Johnny could swear that Buffy's eyes rested on him, as if she was looking at both he and Giles.

She spun on her heel and ran out of the double doors of the library without looking back. "Buffy!" Johnny called, running after her, back out of the library.

He ran into a nightclub of some sort where dozens of teenagers sat around in tables or danced slowly on the dance floor to a haunting song. Johnny himself was now dressed in a black blazer over a white, button-up shirt, the first three buttons of which were undone. Buffy was standing right in front of him, looking at him with an apologetic expression, the silver cross hanging from her neck. The words of the song filled the entire room: 'Your eyes / That always make me shiver / Now they are closed / They just sometimes twitch a little'

"I just gotta…" Johnny declared. "I gotta walk away from this."

Buffy nodded with understanding. "I know. Me too." The two of them stood in front of each other, unmoving. Buffy whispered, "One of us has to go here."

Johnny whispered back, "I know." They stared at each other in silence as their eyes locked. A few moments later, the two of them leaned in and kissed each other gently.

'And your body / I could hold for an hour / It sent me to Heaven  
/ With its heat and power…'

Buffy pushed even closer to Johnny with more passion than before. As the two of them made contact, another vision shot through his mind.

* * *

Buffy, now much older and with long, wavy hair, grimaced in pain. A man with blonde hair held her tightly, his face obscured by Buffy's neck as he buried his face into the left side of her throat. Behind her, La Musique aux Tuileries was hanging on the wall. She whimpered in torment, her fingers tightening as she scratched her nails helplessly across the back of her attacker, tearing four slashes into the back of his navy blue blazer. Blood poured down Buffy's shoulder as her head rolled back and she fell into her attacker's arms. 

Johnny watched in horror and sickened disgust as her killer held her, still biting her on the neck for a few more moments. The look of pain on her face was so intolerable that it tore his heart open to see such a strong woman be torn down to the strength of a powerless child. Her body finally fell out of her killer's arms and landed on the ground, her wound dripping with crimson life.

Johnny looked down weakly and helplessly at Buffy as suddenly her eyes opened wide. She stared straight up at him and declared, "There's still time."

Buffy, now much older and with long, wavy hair, grimaced in pain. A man with blonde hair held her tightly, his face obscured by Buffy's neck as he buried his face into the left side of her throat. Behind her, La Musique aux Tuileries was hanging on the wall. She whimpered in torment, her fingers tightening as she scratched her nails helplessly across the back of her attacker, tearing four slashes into the back of his navy blue blazer. Blood poured down Buffy's shoulder as her head rolled back and she fell into her attacker's arms.

* * *

Johnny jolted with terror as he came out of the vision and nearly fell into the crater if it hadn't been for Bruce, who held him straight. Johnny found his heart beating out of his chest again and he couldn't hear his friend shouting his name only inches away. Bruce picked him up on his feet and walked him back to the rental car.

Opening the door, Bruce nearly threw Johnny into the passenger's seat as he declared, "That's enough." Johnny was still in a daze as Bruce got in the driver's seat and closed the door, turning over the engine. "We're going back home."

"No," Johnny breathed. "We can't… not now. There's still time."

"What?" Bruce exclaimed, all but fed up with the name Buffy.

"She's still alive," Johnny declared with certainty. "I saw what's going to kill her."

Bruce looked over at him with concern. "What is it?"

"It's…" Johnny tried to explain, but he shook his head at a loss. "I can't explain it. It's… inhuman." The final word rang out ominously as the two of them sat in silence.

Bruce knew what he wanted to say – that he didn't believe it. It wasn't real. It was impossible. But then, he noticed something as Johnny leaned back and rested on the seat, heaving quietly as his mind raced. Bruce reached over and pulled down the collar of Johnny's blue button-up shirt. Johnny looked down to view the same thing that Bruce was seeing with wide, frightened eyes.

A deep, blood-red mark the shape of Buffy's cross pendant was burned into the skin of Johnny's chest.

* * *

The front door of the Los Angeles hotel room opened as Johnny and Bruce walked in later that night. Johnny was just at the end of trying to explain what he saw to Bruce. "She was in a gang?" Bruce asked.

"No," he shook his head in reply, very confused himself. "I don't… Well… I'm not… No. It's weirder than that."

"A cult?"

"Too weird," Johnny declared, going over to Bruce's laptop. He sat down at the table and opened it up as Bruce closed the door.

"You should try to type some of the stranger stuff into a search engine," Bruce suggested as he walked towards the table. "Maybe you'll find—"

Bruce was cut off by a loud explosion as the door was blown off the hinges. He hit the ground as Johnny looked up in shock. He saw the British, middle-aged man, Giles, appear in the doorway as he punched out a guard. Another security guard grabbed Giles from behind when the dark, curly-haired young man with the eye patch hit the guard in the back of the head, knocking him out.

Bruce pushed himself off of the ground as Buffy's friend, the young, red-headed woman walked in the door with long, flowing white hair. She eyed Johnny instantly. Bruce stood up, about to confront her as she waved her hand in his face and said very calmly, almost ignoring the fact that he was there, "Sleep."

Bruce collapsed on the floor unconsciously as Buffy's three friends entered the room, followed by a younger woman with long, straight, dark-blonde hair. Each of them stood like statues with stone cold faces as they glared at Johnny.

"Johnny Smith?" Giles declared in his British accent, wearing casual clothing, as they all did.

"That's me," John answered with uncertainty.

"Get up," the white-haired girl demanded as the color of her hair faded back to red. Johnny stared at them hesitantly as he idly pressed a button on the keyboard.

"I'd listen to the little lady," the young man with the eye patch declared. "She's got quite a temper."

"So I've seen," Johnny answered as he came to a calm stand.

"What's that supposed to mean?" the younger girl asked angrily as she eyed him suspiciously.

He pointed down at Bruce and demanded, "Is he going to be all right?"

"He's fine," the red-haired woman declared. "Just asleep. But he's not your main problem. We are."

"What do you know about Buffy Summers?" Giles flatly asked. "And please, don't insult my intelligence by pretending that you don't know who she is."

"I do," Johnny answered.

"What have you done with her?" the younger girl snapped. Johnny looked over at her, a sudden fear coming over him. Was he too late?

"What are you talking about?" Johnny asked.

"Buffy is our friend," Xander threateningly announced. "We care a whole lot about her. And now she's disappeared. Unfortunately for you, you're the one all the signs are pointing to."

"We know you have something to do with it," the red-haired woman accused. "So what is it?"

He shook his head and considered lying, but had to be honest. "I really don't know," he answered. "I was in a coma for six years and when I woke up… I changed. My brain rewired itself to work through an area that's usually considered dead. And now…"

"Let me guess," the young man cut him off. "Every time you get a little touchy-feely you start seeing things?"

"Visions," Johnny reiterated as he stared at him in confusion. "I thought you didn't know who I was."

"We don't," Giles declared. "But we've seen it before."

"How?" Johnny asked. "That's impossible. I'm the—"

"One psychic in all the world…" the younger girl interrupted, rolling her eyes in boredom. "Yada, yada, yada…" Johnny stared at her in utter confusion.

"We know you're psychic," the red-head announced.

The young man skeptically challenged, "Yeah, well, if you're so psychic, then tell me what my name is."

Johnny began instantly, "Oh, well…" He paused, trying to remember and then realized that it never had come up. "Actually, I don't know that," he matter-of-factly admitted.

"We're not here to play magic tricks," Giles snapped in frustration.

"I understand that, Giles," Johnny answered.

"Hey!" the young man declared. "I thought you said you didn't know our names."

"No," Johnny replied. "I just didn't know _your_ name."

"Oh," the young man reeled back with a bitter, disappointed look of rejection on his face. He crossed his arms obtusely. "Well, I'm not telling you."

"Enough, Xander," Giles declared seriously.

"What did you mean by seeing my visions before?" Johnny asked with concern. "I thought I was the only one."

"Guess what," the young girl declared impatiently. "There's two now." Johnny gazed at her in astonishment as he took the information in.

"Don't worry," the red-head comforted. "It happens to everybody." A new thought occurred to her as she added, "And… hi. I'm Willow." She then remembered the reason that she came and put on a semi-fierce gaze. "And also – what did you do to Buffy?"

"She's having visions?" Johnny asked in amazement.

"Something about the end of the world," Xander answered.

"But the fiery kind," Willow added. "Not the normal kind."

Giles removed his glasses as he explained, "Buffy was arrested by Italian police and institutionalized. She escaped a day ago."

"You still haven't answered our question," the younger girl declared angrily. "And being Buffy's sister that puts you in a bad place with me."

"Dawn," Johnny said as he connected the events in his memory to the current situation. "I don't know where she is."

Xander crossed his arms with an intimidating, matter-of-fact tone, "Then you're going to help us look for our friend… or you're going to the hospital. The trip involves a no-expense-paid trip to the fabulous town of Rome, Italy, where you can do your finger dance all over the city until you find her."

Johnny shook his head as he processed the information. He gazed up at them at a loss, "Why do you think I can find her?"

"Because," Dawn declared as she eyed him, "she went looking for you."


	5. Kidnapped

**LEGAL A/N:** _Buffy the Vampire Slayer_ and all characters belong to Joss Whedon, Fox, UPN and the WB. _The Dead Zone_ and all characters belong to Shawn & Michael Piller, Stephen King, Lion's Gate Television and USA Network. No profit is being made off of this and no copyright infringement is intended.

**NOTE FROM THE AUTHOR:** Sequel to Real. Post-BTVS S7 "Chosen" and post-DZ S4 "Vanguard"

**5: Kidnapped**

Knox sat at a table in a dark, smoky room inside of a warehouse. The young man in his late twenties pushed his wavy, blonde hair out of eyes. He gazed around at the men in dark suits and sunglasses as they stood around the table. A tall, lanky man in a black suit with dark hair combed back strolled casually through the room as he eyed Knox carefully.

The physicist wondered how he got in this peculiar situation. He was driving home from his job at Wolfram & Hart after he had bitterly said goodnight to Winifred Burkle before she rushed off with Wesley, her new boyfriend. He remembered the cars coming out of nowhere and parking in front and around him on the street. The next thing he knew, he was being yanked out of his car and dragged into a dark van where he arrived here amongst this multitude of men that belonged on an episode of _The X-Files_.

Knox looked over at the only man without sunglasses as he continued to pace calmly in front of the table. He examined a red ring on his finger with some sort of symbol engraved on it. Knox had seen it earlier. He recognized it as originating from some demon cult, but he couldn't recall which one.

"Mr. Knox," the lanky man named Malcolm Janus smoothly began, "I have brought you here tonight because I believe we can help each other. We can find a useful resource in one another."

"What-what are you talking about?" Knox stuttered. "Did somebody set you guys up to this? Was it Richie?"

"I assure you, Mr. Knox," Janus answered calmly as he leaned on the table facing the nerdy little man. "If I don't know any Richie of yours. And if I did I would have him killed."

Knox's smile faded instantly as Janus' eyes burned into him. "What's this about?" Knox asked after a deep gulp.

Janus nonchalantly responded, "Have you ever heard of the novel 'Needful Things?'"

"Stephen King?" Knox replied. "Yeah, I've read it. Movie's all right."

"Well I have something that you might consider needful," Janus responded. "I know what you've been planning. What you've been wanting. The sarcophagus of the demon Illyria."

Knox's eyes widened ten times their normal size. "You have it?" he asked in disbelief.

"Not on me, no," Janus replied with a slow speed. "But it's something that I could easily obtain. It could be yours… if you agree to give me something in return."

Knox stared at him curiously and then asked, "Am I making a deal with the devil?"

Janus gazed at him in silence as a smile formed on his lips. "The ancient texts of Utarefson," Janus declared. "You have them. I need them. Normally, you would just be killed and they would be stolen from your dead corpse, but I believe myself to be… a nice guy. I do truly think this is an offer you should take, Mr. Knox. It would be foolish to resist."

Knox stared at him in distrust. "If I give you the texts of Utarefson, you'll give me the sarcophagus of Illyria?"

"Isn't that what I just said?"

"But I thought the sarcophagus was predestined to disappear."

"No, you twit," Janus spat, rolling his eyes in frustration. "You actually have to go get it." He sighed, surrounded by incompetence. "Kids today. Lazy, lazy, lazy."

"I don't understand," Knox answered, agitating him even further. "Nobody really believes in Utarefson. Those texts are useless."

"Then you won't have any trouble giving them up," Janus replied. "Now please don't mistake my kindness for letting you live this long as foolhardiness." He glared at him impatiently. "Will you take my gracious offer, Mr. Knox?"

Knox stared at him for a few moments with a dumbfounded expression. "For Illyria," Knox declared, "I'll do anything."

Janus grinned, "Then it's yours."

* * *

Bruce opened his eyes groggily as he stared up at the ceiling of the hotel room. He felt as if he had just emerged from a coma as he sat up slowly and gazed around the room. It was empty… Johnny was gone.

"Oh, no," he whispered to himself, realizing that the four intruders had stolen him. He looked over at the clock – he'd been out for hours. He pulled himself to his feet, using the chair of the table for balance. He glanced at the computer screen with blurry vision as something caught his attention. His eyes widened as he gazed at the open program.

"All right, Johnny!" he grinned as he fit the puzzle pieces together. Bruce pressed play on the on-screen sound recorder and heard Xander's voice through the speakers.

_"I'd listen to the little lady. She's got quite a temper."_

Johnny had recorded the last conversation he had in the room on the computer.

* * *

Bruce shouted at his cell phone as he tried to drive through the L.A. traffic. "Giles," he repeated. "I'm not sure if that's a first or last name."

Walt, on the other end working late at the police station, asked in confusion, "Is that it?"

"All that was said," Bruce declared. "They must have left Los Angeles a few hours ago. They're going to Rome. Three other people – two women and one man – names Willow, Dawn and Xander should be on the same flight. The Xander guy said something about Johnny buying his own ticket."

Walt's fingers quickly moved across a keyboard as he accessed LAX's passenger files. "I have a Rupert Giles," Walt announced. "Flight 180 from Los Angeles to New York City. He's catching a connecting flight to Rome. Forty-seven years old from Westbury, England. Guy's got a criminal record from his teens and twenties. Quite the youthful offender."

"And now he's got Johnny," Bruce declared with worry.

"He'll be landing in a few minutes," Walt replied.

Bruce answered, "You've got to stop them."

"I'm on it."

* * *

Johnny walked down the terminal of the JFK airport in New York with Giles, Dawn, Willow and Xander around him. Every move he made, they kept him under a close watch. He felt more like an ant under a magnifying glass. This wasn't going to work. Not like this. He needed to get away.

They continued to walk towards the baggage claim as Johnny placed his foot down and received a vision of the future.

_Two security guards stood at the end of the hallway talking amongst themselves as they saw someone standing in the distance. "There he is!" one of the guards shouted. "Rupert Giles, stop!"_

Johnny paused as a thoughtful expression arose on his face. The others stopped and turned to him, gazing at him accusingly. Giles, "We have a plane to catch. I'd try to keep up if I were you."

"I've got to go," Johnny declared as he looked around. He spotted a two doors that were opposite from each other in a nook in the hall. "To the bathroom," he added.

"Are you kidding me?" Dawn exclaimed.

Xander shook his head. "You can go on the plane."

"No," Johnny said, raising his brows. "I've got to go. Now." They stared at him incredulously and sighed, shaking their heads.

"All right, Huggies," Xander said, rolling his eyes. "I'll go with him. Come on. Don't try anything." Johnny turned around and walked calmly towards the men's restroom as Xander followed. The other three stood in the hallway and waited as the two of them disappeared into the bathroom.

Johnny entered and moved to the center of the room, listening as he realized that it was empty. Xander walked in behind him and let the door close. "Okay," Xander sighed in frustrated. "Now let's get it over—"

In a flash, Johnny slammed his elbow into Xander's face powerfully, knocking him unconsciously to the floor.

_Xander and Buffy sat outside on a bench in the backyard of 1630 Revello Drive. Buffy wore a white, zip-up jacket while Xander wore a bright yellow, button-up shirt. The two of them stared at each other emotionally as Xander folded Buffy into his arms gratefully._

Johnny turned around and looked down at his motionless body. "Sorry, Xander," he declared. "I hope you'll understand." Johnny opened the bathroom door and slipped out. He hid on the other side of a wall from the Scoobies who stood anxiously outside as a mass of people passed them.

He faced the wall and looked around the corner to see the others not paying any attention to the entrance to the bathrooms.

_Buffy opened the door to the women's restroom and exited into the terminal wearing a white tank top and blue jeans. She glanced around, making sure the hall was clear of security, and then retreated back as two officers walked by. She waited until a large group of people passed by the bathroom entrance, put on a pair of sunglasses, and inserted herself in the back of the group, carrying on as if she were a part of it._

Johnny pulled his hands away from the wall and stared at it curiously. "She's in New York," he whispered to himself. He looked around the corner again as another large group of people passed by. He jumped into that crowd seemingly, disappearing into the mass of busy, bustling travelers.

"There he is!" a shout rang out. Giles, Willow and Dawn looked down at the end of the hallway to see two security guards pointing at them. "Rupert Giles, stop!" The guards broke off into a run towards them. Giles, Willow and Dawn bolted for the men's restroom.

"Oh, god, I'm not supposed to see this!" Dawn exclaimed as she followed the others into the bathroom. They stopped in the middle of the room and stared down at Xander's unmoving body, his nose bloody from a devastating blow.

"Xander!" Willow exclaimed.

"Willow, can you get us out of here?" Giles asked as he reached down and grabbed Xander's body.

"Hold on," she declared, as she grabbed on to Dawn's and Giles' shoulder.

The security guards rushed into the men's restroom to find it completely empty. They searched each stall in utter bewilderment, but found no trace of the escapees.

From across the gate, Johnny watched as the two security guards rushed out empty-handed, shouting frantically into their radios. Johnny got away, but so did they. He didn't have to be psychic to understand that they would meet again.


	6. Reunion

**LEGAL A/N:** _Buffy the Vampire Slayer_ and all characters belong to Joss Whedon, Fox, UPN and the WB. _The Dead Zone_ and all characters belong to Shawn & Michael Piller, Stephen King, Lion's Gate Television and USA Network. No profit is being made off of this and no copyright infringement is intended.

**NOTE FROM THE AUTHOR:** Sequel to Real. Post-BTVS S7 "Chosen" and post-DZ S4 "Vanguard"

**6: Reunion**

Greg Stillson stood in a hotel room wearing a cleanly-pressed, white, button-up dress shirt. He gazed at himself in the mirror with a pleased smile as he examined his chiseled features and tan he had received on the golf course earlier that weekend. With a comb, he made sure that every blonde hair on his head was in perfect place.

A few of his assistants, a couple of them in black suits and sunglasses, moved around behind him, taking calls, fixing coffee and writing speeches to be used later.

The door to the hotel suite opened as Malcolm Janus walked in with a pleased expression. Or at least about as pleased as an expressionless man could look.

"If you would all exit the room," Janus asked. "That's enough for now." At his command, the room emptied instantly. Stillson turned around and glanced at him curiously.

"What have you got up your sleeve today?" Stillson grinned as he turned back towards the mirror.

"I'd like to introduce you to a new business partner," Janus answered as soon as they were alone.

"Business partner?" Stillson repeated with uncertainty. "I don't know anything about a new business partner." Stillson turned back to the mirror and gazed at his reflection, studying it closely, "Do you really think I look like a JFK?"

"Vanity is a sin."

"Only to those who haven't got much to look at," Stillson replied with a smirk. He faced Janus again as he pulled a red tie out and threw it around his neck. "So what's the business about a business partner?"

Janus went to the door and opened it, letting in a medium-sized, bony man with brown eyes and brown hair streaked with grey spots. He wore a simple black suit with a blue, collared shirt. "Congressman," Janus began, "let me introduce to you Mr. Ethan Rayne." Stillson looked the middle-aged man over and extended his hand to him. Ethan shook his hand with a twisted, untrustworthy smile. Janus added, "This is the man that will change your destiny."

"That's quite the task," Stillson answered. "Does this have anything to do with that physicist from the law firm in L.A.? Because I've really had my fill of scientists for the year."

"Precisely," Janus answered. "But Mr. Knox was no Alex Connors. In fact, he was nothing more than a distraction. A brilliant idea given to us by Mr. Rayne."

"How so?" Stillson asked.

"What you fail to realize, Senator," Ethan casually declared in a proper British accent, "is that true power is not measured in polls."

Stillson grinned, "I beg your pardon, but I've got thousands of trusting voters who would disagree with you."

"There are other ways," Ethan added, "that require nothing more than a little effort and sacrifice."

He laughed unbelievingly. "Sounds like you're going to rewrite the book on politics," Stillson declared. "So tell me, sir. What makes you so knowledgeable?"

Ethan outstretched his hand and Stillson, standing five feet away, was knocked down forcefully to the ground, the wind getting blown out of him. The young Stillson looked up at Ethan in astonishment and fear. "Like I said," Ethan answered, glaring at the arrogant politician. "A little effort… and sacrifice."

Stillson stared at him in amazement as Janus explained, "With Mr. Rayne's assistance, we killed two birds with one stone." Stillson picked himself up and came to an uncertain stand as he stared at Ethan uncomfortably, trying to logically explain what just happened. "We received the ancient texts of Utarefson _and_ we're going to keep the staff of Wolfram & Hart's L.A. branch busy."

Stillson asked in confusion, "Why would we be afraid of a bunch of lawyers?"

"You're a politician," Ethan declared. "You should be able to answer that."

Stillson gave him a look as Janus explained, "In fact, Wolfram & Hart's L.A. branch is not run by lawyers. It's run by a group of people that can bring our plans to ruin if they converge with the others."

"The others?" Stillson repeated. "Buffy Summers? That cute blonde you boys were going on about?"

Janus replied, "_And_ Johnny Smith."

Stillson's eyes squeezed shut with fury. He inhaled lividly as he hissed quietly, "If I hear that name one more time…"

"Soon it'll be on everyone's lips," Janus grinned. "We've booby-trapped Smith's home. The second he walks through the front door he'll meet an untimely death."

"And then what?" Stillson snapped, unsatisfied. "We'll have turned him into a martyr!"

Ethan smiled pleasantly with eyes full of excitement. He whispered temptingly, "Not until we will have turned you into a god." Greg Stillson looked over at him curiously as Ethan wickedly grinned back at him. After a few moments of consideration, Stillson smiled at the idea of himself as a god…

He liked the sound of that.

* * *

Johnny sat inside the New York Public Library at a computer as the sun was setting over the East Coast. He diligently typed away at every search engine he could find. He typed in the phrase, 'In every generation, a Slayer is born' and 'one… in all the world.' Surprisingly, several websites popped up on the screen. He clicked on one domain name in particular which served the most accurate description – read the meaning of the word Slayer and its history throughout time. The word was associated with mysterious deaths and things that could not be explained. He spent over an hour reading frantically about vampires, demons, witches, werewolves, and other minions of the supernatural. All of it seemed like a big fairy tale.

Johnny finally stopped reading and squeezed his aching eyes closed. He had gotten so close to her and suddenly he found himself slipping away once again. She was going to die and he wouldn't be able to save her – history was repeating itself. Once more, he had that feeling of powerlessness.

Johnny opened his eyes as they gazed around the desk and rested on an annoying sight. Greg Stillson's smiling face beamed up at Johnny, full of confidence. John glowered at the nearly full-page picture on a local magazine cover, showcasing Stillson's everyman personality – and suggesting him as the perfect president. A headline above the picture screamed excitement about the politician's upcoming speech at a rally.

Johnny grabbed the magazine and tossed it into a wastebasket in disgust with his situation, disgust at Stillson, and above all – disgust in himself. He stood up from his chair and marched away from the computer towards the library's exit, more lost than he had been before he came.

* * *

Distant thunder rumbled as a flash of lightning illuminated a modest apartment bedroom. Johnny sat on a simple twin bed against a wall that was really more of a cot as he stared out at the unfamiliar settings around him. His skin was cold, he knew that, and his clothes were wet. He looked beside him and his eyes widened with surprise.

Buffy sat on the bed next to him in a wet, beige blouse of transparent satin over a matching camisole and a dark, floral skirt. Her face was wet with rainwater and her eyes were wet with approaching tears. She looked as if she were a small flower in the midst of the raging storm outside. She appeared so fragile and innocent, sitting on the bed as she gazed at the wall, shivering every once and a while with cold.

His first instinct was to warm her, but his eyes found an inch-long cut on her back where her beige blouse had been sliced open. "You're hurt," he whispered with concern.

Johnny's voice seemed to snap her out of her daze. She glanced at him before pulling her eyes away and replying, "It's… it's nothing."

"May I see?" he asked. Buffy turned to him and stared at him for the first time. He felt his heartbeat pace more rapidly as his eyes met with hers. After a few moments of hesitance, she gave him a small nod of trust. She turned herself towards the wall and slowly removed the beige blouse and reduced herself to the wet camisole. Buffy clung on to the blouse, holding it to her chest modestly as she faced the opposite wall and let him examine her wound.

Johnny narrowed his eyes on the tiny cut, but was careful – as he was at all times – not to touch her. However, now he found himself not touching for different reasons. She was a dream that he feared would vanish if he laid a hand on her. Staring closely at the cut, his eyes widened with suspicious surprise. "It's healed," he declared, then quieted himself once more. Johnny looked up from her closed wound to the back of her head as he heard a soft whimper.

He could tell she was trying to suck it back in from the moment she had let her cry slip. Johnny was still for a few seconds, deciding with much hesitation. But after a while, his will to think things through began to give in to his will to help her. Slowly, he reached for her short, damp, golden hair and pulled it out of her face.

"What's wrong?" he gently asked. Buffy was clearly in indecision herself. She turned her head, and then turned her body towards the front again, still holding the blouse to her. Johnny stared at the half of her face she allowed him to see and observed the glimmer of a tear as it ran down her cheek.

Softly and desperately she replied, "You… you almost went away today."

The teardrop fell from her face and he could already see another forming. Again, his instinct was to reach out to her – to console her. He stretched out his fingers, but then pulled them back into a ball, squeezing them tightly enough to cause discomfort so he would remember that he couldn't touch her.

"I've been looking for you," Johnny declared after a few more moments of silence. "I-I went to Sunnydale. I know what's happened. The things you've faced… and feared. I've seen it." Her eyes moved towards his direction, but she was obviously pulling them back and trying her best to not look into his. Johnny agreed with her – that would probably be best – as he added, "I've felt it."

She was silent and still as stone as she stared at walls of the room as another flash of lightning brightened her view, even if it was only for moment. "I'm tired," she whispered in reply. "I'm tired of running."

"I know," Johnny answered.

Buffy shook her head with wide eyes full of despair and doom. "I don't think there's anything that I can do to stop it. I can't change the future."

"I can," Johnny declared with resolve. His answer surprised her so much that she turned towards him, crossing the line and making eye contact. He added, truly believing in what he was saying, "_We_ can." As she gazed at him, it filled them both with hope. Johnny again had to remind himself to not embrace her, trying his best to think out every move he made before he made it.

Buffy pulled her attention away from him and began to glance around the room nervously, aware that something was waiting for her. "You're in danger, Buffy," Johnny said with urgency.

"I have to go," she answered.

"No," he defiantly declared. "You don't have to."

Buffy gazed at him with a withering expression as she shook her head tearfully. "But I do," she whispered, the air leaving her lungs. She softly cried, "I'm the only one that can stop it."

"You're not alone," Johnny exclaimed as he reached out for her shoulders. Suddenly, he remembered his rule and restrained himself from contact. His hands were frozen a few inches away from her arms as she glanced down at them and then made the biggest mistake for either of them.

She looked into his eyes.

She looked into his soul.

Buffy and Johnny stared at each other for an eternity. "I'll protect you," he could hear himself saying, but couldn't feel his mouth form the words. And all of a sudden, Johnny had no desire to think things through and was no longer thinking about anything that wasn't holding her in his arms.

Buffy leaned over to him as Johnny closed his eyes and let her delicately grace him with a kiss. Though he could see nothing, his other senses pictured his hands gently meeting her arms.

_Buffy laid her head on Johnny's shoulder as the two of them leaned back against a tombstone in a graveyard one misty evening in Sunnydale, his arms wrapped around her securely._

His fingers softly rose up from her forearms, over her shoulders and finally cradled her face as he pulled her even closer for a deeper kiss.

_Buffy and Johnny walked hand-in-hand down a snow-covered Main Street in Sunnydale as peaceful flakes drifted down around them and children played in the distance._

He pulled away for a moment of breath as his hands slipped down her back, only to have her grab his face and kiss him passionately with a taste of desperation for him.

_Buffy was standing on a beach as the warm sun rained down upon her and the wet sand gripped her feet. She suddenly felt Johnny's arms wrap around her waist as he rested his chin on her shoulder and they gazed out at the crashing waves together._

Johnny laid back on the bed as Buffy continued to kiss him, both of them giving in to their desires. They felt a sense of passion, exhilaration and relief as they became one with each other, thinking the same thoughts, feeling the same emotions, and everything in both of their broken worlds – from the tiniest drop of rain to the most monumental explosion of mountains – seemed right. They were no longer the legendary Johnny Smith and Buffy Summers. They were simply a man and woman melting in to each other with no fear, no worry – nothing between them but the soft linen of the bed sheets.

A bonfire blazed within them both, hungrily consuming them, while at the same time a chilly tingle ran through every vein of their bodies and brought an extraordinary peace. Every move was a smooth, improvised dance to the rhythm of the rain. Every breath was an elating flight through the atmosphere as it pulsed and jolted with lightning. Every touch was a gateway to not only their souls and bodies, but to their memories and minds as they joined as one in perfect ecstasy.

Buffy gazed up at Johnny as she felt his fingers open her tiny hand wide and tangle together with hers.

_Johnny hung half out of Buffy's bedroom window, leaning over the windowsill into the room as she beamed at him and kissed him sweetly._

She exhaled slowly as he ran his thumb over her soft lips.

_With the Sunnydale High School senior class dancing slowly around them, Buffy and Johnny swayed to the music together, Buffy in her prom dress and Johnny in a tuxedo. She closed her eyes, seizing the moment for all it was worth, and rested her head on his shoulder._

Lightning flashed again as Buffy closed her eyes while he tenderly kissed her neck.

_Buffy was in a deep slumber in Johnny's bed as he lay next to her wide awake, watching her with awe and wonder as he caressed her golden locks of hair, paying no attention to how messy it was._

Her fragile hands ran over the flexing shoulder blades of his back.

_Buffy began to walk out of the door of the apartment one morning as Johnny gripped her arm and pulled her towards him, embracing her as he passionately kissed her._

He gazed down into her warm eyes and kissed her deeply, reaching her soul and setting it ablaze with rapture and bliss.

_Johnny protectively laid her back down in her own bed as the demon remedy to her 'aspect of the demon' began to take effect. He gazed down at her peaceful face and gently placed a kiss on her forehead._

Buffy's eyes opened as Johnny slowly grasped her upper arm, holding her closely as they moved in sequence with one another. His heavy head rested upon her right shoulder, concealing his exhilarated face with shadow. She felt as strange sensation and her eyes met his fingers as he gripped her left arm. Lightning flashed once more, illuminating her view. He closed his fingers tighter around her upper arm, smearing blood from an unseen wound across her flesh.

Her eyes widened as they settled on the crimson streak. The face of the young President, with demonic, blacked-out eyes and a vicious smile, flashed through her mind and suddenly reminded her of the things that she had been running from. Johnny pulled his head up suddenly with a jolt as Buffy gazed up at him in terror.

His mouth opened wide as his incisors and other teeth sharply and jaggedly grew, his brow morphing into a serpentine structure. His gorgeous blue eyes changed color, becoming bright and terrifying yellow. It was the kind of face she'd seen a million times, the face of the particular demon from which she got her namesake. But none of those times were as terrifying as this.

In a flash, Johnny buried his teeth into her neck with the ferocity of an animal without a care, or soul, within.

* * *

Johnny shot up from his New York hotel room bed in a terrified sweat and with a shout as the clock near his bed changed to 3:07. He instantly reached up and began to wipe his mouth, also trying to rid his brain of the horrible images that had just transpired. There was a metallic taste in his mouth that was undeniable.

He threw himself out of bed and ran towards the sink, turning the faucet on and throwing water into his mouth. As he spit the water back into the basin, he reached up and turned on the light. Johnny froze with fear as he stared down at the retreating water as his nightmares were confirmed – he was washing blood out of his mouth.

He gazed down at the scarlet color in confusion as his heart beat rapidly as if it were going to explode in his chest. Panting with fear, he looked up and came face-to-face with his own reflection in the mirror to see his normal, human face. He stared at his reflection with uncertainty and fright, not sure if the person staring back at him was truly him.

Johnny's horror only confirmed and reassured one thing: he had to find Buffy and he had to find her right now. He pulled himself away from the mirror, marching across the room as he grabbed his jacket off of a coat rack. He rummaged through each of the pockets until he felt the cold metal of Buffy's silver cross necklace. Johnny lifted the cross out of his pocket by the chain and glared at it in defiance.

"Where are you, Buffy?" He reached out and grasped the cross in his hand, closing his eyes. Images flashed through his mind and he opened his eyes again only moments later. Johnny stared at the necklace in confusion as he moved towards the front door. Twisting the doorknob, he opened the door to reveal a young woman with long, wavy, blonde hair standing in the doorway with a white tank top and blue jeans. She gazed up at him in motionless shock and awe as he stared at her, matching the expression.

"Buffy."


	7. Attack

**LEGAL A/N:** _Buffy the Vampire Slayer_ and all characters belong to Joss Whedon, Fox, UPN and the WB. _The Dead Zone_ and all characters belong to Shawn & Michael Piller, Stephen King, Lion's Gate Television and USA Network. No profit is being made off of this and no copyright infringement is intended.

**NOTE FROM THE AUTHOR:** Sequel to Real. Post-BTVS S7 "Chosen" and post-DZ S4 "Vangaurd"

**7: Attack**

Thunder crashed over New York after a bolt of lightning illuminated the sky over Rose Hill Cemetery as brightly as day. Hundreds of gravestones were positioned all around the cemetery with several additional mausoleums. Ethan Rayne was inside the largest, with five other vampires standing guard.

Ethan stood in the center of a darkened room with an unlit candle in hand. He had his eyes closed as he hummed softly, slightly swaying back and forth as he had been for the past hour. He stood in the center of a pentagram drawn in chalk on the cement floor, the symbol weighed down with dozens of other ritualistic signs written around and on top of it. The five vamp guards stood in a circle of protection around Ethan and tiredly tried to keep their eyes open while Ethan preformed the most boring of rituals in the coldest building in the city.

The beefy, linebacker-type vampires gazed around at each other, their legs aching from standing there for an hour and their bellies rumbling with hunger. "This sucks," the one with sandy-blonde hair named Marv declared. "Why couldn't we do this in the hotel?"

"This is sacred ground," Ethan answered, trying to concentrate and frustrated with being interrupted. "It is harder to disrupt the balance."

Chester, a surfer-type, dim-witted vampire, asked with obliviousness, "What balance?"

A punk-rocker, badass vamp named Drake rolled his eyes. "Are you talking about a _real_ balance or a cheesy, Elton John 'Circle of Life' balance?"

Ethan sighed in annoyance as he attempted to explain without much hope. "It's… it's the… sacred balance. It-it's… sacred."

Chester tried hard to understand. "But when you say that…"

"Dude!" a pretty-boy vampire named Manuel hissed. "You might disrupt the balance!"

The fifth vampire, an older man with a thick Jersey accent named Steve challenged, "Yeah, but what kind of balance, is it?"

Marv whined, "Why isn't the hotel sacred?"

Steve snapped, "Shut it about the hotel already, eh?"

A red-faced Ethan burst out in a flash of anger, "You're disrupting the balance!" All of them fell into silence as Ethan glared at each of them in annoyance. With a sigh, he rolled his eyes and continued the spell, sitting down in the center of the pentagram and lighting the red candle in his hands.

"All right," Ethan began, calmed down. "Each of you, sit on the five points of the star." The vampires gave each other a strange, uncertain look. "Don't just stand there," Ethan ordered, "sit on the five points!" The vamps shrugged at each other and followed his orders.

Marv said under his breath, "Finally." Ethan shot his fierce gaze towards Marv and he quieted himself, breaking eye-contact immediately and finding a sudden interest in the walls.

Ethan returned to his task, closing his eyes in deep mediation. The vampires stared at him curiously as he began to chant rapid-fire in Latin. "What's he saying?" Chester asked.

"How would we know, you idiot?" Drake answered. The lightning outside began to occur more rapidly as the vamps staring up at the ceiling, hearing the swirling of electricity in the sky over the mausoleum.

Ethan's eyes opened wide and were dark with black magic. "Sons of Utarefson, hear onto me," he declared in a booming voice. "Let live they that follow and die they that flee. Embrace your father's demon; take your weapons in hand. By the will of Utarefson, you shall obey my command!"

The flame of Ethan's candle exploded into a short ball of fire as a bolt of lightning struck the mausoleum. The five vampires suddenly howled with horror and pain as they were incinerated from the inside out, exploding into a cloud of dust and ash. The ashes of their bodies transformed into a golden cloud that rose out of the vents, windows and cracks of the mausoleum and traveled through the air, dissipating and spreading like a virus over the city.

* * *

Buffy Summers sat in a chair at the round table in Johnny's hotel room as he sat across from her. Johnny had thrown his clean, dark blue, button-up shirt over his tank undershirt – the memory of how much he had enjoyed gazing at her flesh in his dreams fueling his desire for modesty and self-control. Both of them stared at each other in awkward silence. She couldn't bring herself to explain _how_ she had met Johnny. He couldn't bring himself to explain the visions he was having of her future – and the stranger ones he was having of _their_ non-existent past.

"I don't know where to begin," Buffy finally declared, breaking the thick quiet. Johnny looked up at her, accidentally looking into her eyes again. He gazed down at the table as he cleared his throat uncomfortably.

"Um… your friends," Johnny nervously began. "They, uh, found me. They told me that you were having visions." He glanced up at her face for a moment to see it turn a darker shade as she tried to push images out of her head. The same expression that he found himself having after his meetings with Greg Stillson. "Visions of Armageddon," he added, studying her closely. Buffy nearly winced at the word.

It was true. She had seen it, too. But how?

"I don't understand how this is happening," Buffy whispered in confusion. "I-I mean… Is it because of something that you did?" she asked with uncertainty.

"I don't know," he sighed with honesty, shaking his head. Another shade of somber sadness and worry crossed her face.

She meekly asked with a hollow, disheartened tone, "Then is it something that I did?"

Johnny gazed at her, examining her tone and demeanor. "You mean is it something that you deserve?" he replied. Buffy looked up at him with subtly stunned eyes. She considered denying his claim, but instead pursed her lips even tighter. "I don't really know what's happening here," John declared to her sincerely, "but I don't think you're responsible."

"What if I am?" Buffy asked with a bitter tone. "I pissed off the wrong god, some witch, the Powers – whoever." She shook her head in frustration and shrugged. "Maybe it's payback from coming back from the dead… or letting my formerly soulless, ex-boyfriend sacrifice himself… or even for turning the Potentials into Slayers." Johnny gazed at her blankly. Buffy glanced over at him to see his lost expression. "You've got no idea what I'm talking about, do you?" He shrugged apologetically. Buffy blushed with embarrassment. "Okay… let's just ignore Buffy's outburst of the evening, shall we?"

Johnny smiled at her and replied, "I guess you're too amazing to be summed up with a few visions." Buffy looked up at him, thrown off guard. He reeled back and broke eye contact, embarrassed at himself for saying something that must have sounded so stupid. He cleared his throat again. "Uh… what have you seen?"

Her voice became hollow again as she swallowed hard and replied, "People dying. Fire. Washington being destroyed."

Johnny shook his head with understanding. "Yep, that sounds like Armageddon."

"But not in any way I've ever seen it."

He looked up at her, perplexed. "There's more than one?"

Buffy gave a nervous half-smile of surprise. "Boy… I seem to remember you understanding a lot more when I talked about these things."  
Johnny shook his head as he stared up at her, lost. "No, I don't seem to understand… Buffy, how do you know me?"

Buffy stared up at him blankly. She swallowed hard and began anxiously. "I… I've… I've had dreams," she answered slowly. Johnny could feel his face begin to turn red. He looked away again as he heard her tone carrying hints of sadness and disappointment. "But… that wasn't you… was it?"

There were too many things he wanted to say, but he couldn't find the power within himself to say them. Instead, he forced himself to make eye-contact with her as he began, "Ten years ago, I was in an accident that put me in a coma for six years. During that time, my brain rewired itself to function through my Dead Zone."

She gazed at him in confusion. "You're what who?"

"Dead Zone," he repeated. "It's the part of the brain that normally remains useless."

"Oh," she answer  
ed with a hint of embarrassment. "Must have missed that part in biology."  
"And now when I touch things, I get visions of the past or the future," Johnny continued. "Truth is I probably should've died in the accident or my sleep. The chances of my survival were non-existent. The chances of it changing me the way it has are unheard of."

"So you're the lucky exception?"

"And supposedly the only psychic of my kind in the world."

"Until I came along."

Johnny sympathized with her overload of information. "I know it's a little hard to understand."

"Actually, it's really not," Buffy replied. "One psychic in every generation… until there's a mix-up and then there's two. I just don't understand why it's me. Or why it's happening at all."

"Have you ever had any psychic experiences before?" Johnny asked.

"Oh, yeah," she nodded. "I've predicted everything from the First Evil devouring the world to my own demise. 'Premonitions from Higher Powers while in a dream state' in Giles-speak."

"Dreams?" Johnny repeated, his mind in contemplation. "I've never had any psychic dreams. Not until recently."

Buffy gazed at him, her mind also in thought. "If I had a bill I'd be betting you started having dreams about the same time I walked in on your vision job."

Johnny shook his head in bewilderment and awe. "These dreams… they're nothing like I've ever had before. I'm there and feel real, and when I wake up they _are_ real. What's worse is that they don't make any sense."

"What do you mean?" she asked, gazing at him. Her green eyes found just one of the signs he was talking about peeking out of his dark shirt. "Oh, my god," she breathed in astonishment as she reached out and touched the burn mark of Buffy's cross on his chest.

* * *

_Johnny was standing shirtless with a bored expression on his face as Buffy, with her hair pulled back in a ponytail and a black, transparent blouse over another camisole, wrapped her strong arms around him, embracing him with tearful relief. His arms gave her no reply of any match._

"Oh, my god," she whispered. "I was freaking out!" She let go of him and gazed lovingly at his face. "You just disappeared."

"What?" he shrugged, careless in manner and tone. "I took off." Buffy blinked at him in confusion as he moved to the small bed that he and Buffy had made love on previously. He grabbed a black shirt lying on the bed and put it on as his girlfriend stared at him in worried confusion.

"But… you didn't say anything," she said in bewilderment. "You just left."

"Yeah," he scoffed cruelly. "Like I really wanted to stick around after that."

Buffy reeled back from a serious blow with a look of shock on her face as tears of misery began to take the place of those of joy. "What?" she breathed, her heart breaking. Johnny appeared beside her, walking up to her and studying her carefully. It was a horrified, agonized expression which he had the misfortune of seeing on her face before. She was watching the person she loved become a monster before her very eyes.

* * *

Johnny came out of the vision in confusion. "It happened again," Buffy said, staring at him with eager eyes. "Just now. What did you see?"

He looked up at her, once more in a predicament. Hesitantly and as gently as he could, he answered, "Your boyfriend. The… day after your birthday."

Buffy's expression slowly melted into darkness, bitter memories of a harsh past haunting her green eyes. "I'm sorry," he added, giving her cause for surprise.

"For what?"

After a moment, he answered with a hint of guilt, "For the things he said. They weren't—"

"That wasn't him talking," Buffy interrupted him, obviously not wanting to dwell on the subject. Johnny gazed at her with guilt and confusion. _It wasn't him. It was me._

"Long story," Buffy explained shortly. "But I don't understand. What does _that_ have to do with anything?"

"Haven't got an answer," Johnny said, shaking his head. "Usually my visions aren't so random; they're centered around a specific place and event. But it's almost as if they're trying to connect me to your entire life."

"They have a mind of their own?" she asked incredulously.

He scoffed as he shook his head, "I'm almost sure of it." He stopped and turned towards the window, the curtains drawn tightly in front of it. His attention was pulled away from the situation as he continued to gaze warily at the door and window they were sitting next to.

"What is it?" Buffy asked, noting his heightened alertness. He reached out in a flash, quicker than she could blink, and grabbed her by the arm, yanking her away from the window.

A flaming bottle of alcohol tied to a rock smashed through the window and exploded on the table where they were sitting. Both of them ducked as drops of flaming liquid splattered around the room, setting the bedspread on fire. They could hear shouts and hollers outside, beckoning the Slayer to come out and play.

Buffy came to a stand in full Slayer mode, Johnny arising beside her. He turned towards the smashed window and heard the calls, along with inhuman roars from unknown beings outside. He gazed passed the flaming curtains and table to see two, large, beefy men standing in the window – their jaws heavy with jagged teeth, their teeth glowing yellow in the firelight, and their faces distorted and twisted into a reptilian structure.

The same way he had envisioned his own face.

Buffy pulled wide-eyed Johnny away from the window as they ran through the hotel room and into the bathroom. "Come on!" she ordered. The two of them rushed in as Johnny closed the door behind them. Buffy kicked a small window near the sink. "Can you fit through there?" she asked him.

Johnny considered the size, but his thoughts were interrupted by the demonic roar that was now coming from inside the hotel room. "I can today," he quickly answered as Buffy climbed through the window and Johnny followed. They pulled themselves out of the window into the alley beside them, coming to a stand and turning around to face…

A gang of over a dozen vamped-out vampires, all staring at them and waiting anxiously with licking lips and hungry eyes. "Slayer," an Indian vampire woman hissed as she glared at them along with the other vampires of all shapes, ages and sizes.

Buffy stared at them with a worrisome expression that she had not usually had before. However, it was the way they looked that caused her newfound agitation. This gang looked nothing like a normal gang. It consisted of a multitude of various vampires, all different ages, possibly even different languages that had little in common except for two common facts: they were certainly all demons, and their yellow eyes now took on a distinctive golden glow. As Xander would've put it, a scarier version of an already scare-worthy scary.

A little, vampire girl with brown skin grinned wide. "We've been waiting for you, Slayer."

"Vampire Slayer," Johnny repeated, staring at them all and kicking himself for his stupidity and bad timing. "Now I get it."

Buffy pulled out a stake from the back of her jeans. "Aim for the heart," she declared and tossed it into his hands.

* * *

_In three, quick flashes, Johnny saw Buffy working in action. She was dressed to kill in a darkened cemetery with stake in hand, and she plowed the weapon into the hearts of the vampires she was fighting._

* * *

Johnny gazed at the stake in shock, then turned to her small woman beside him as she whipped out another stake from the small of her back and gripped it tightly, standing in a defensive, countering pose.

Johnny said slowly, "So… were _not_ gonna die?"

"I don't plan to," she answered. A male vampire charged at her, full-force, as Buffy grabbed him and threw him through the window into the burning bathroom.

Johnny looked up at the rest of the gang that eyed him maliciously as he tightened his grip on the weapon and tensed up his muscles. He declared with an amazed sigh, "I did _not_ see this coming." Buffy punched a female vampire to the ground as a male vamp rushed at Johnny. He ducked down and flipped the vamp over his back, kicking another in the stomach. Buffy spin-kicked a man and dusted him, the dug her stake into the heart of another female behind her.

Johnny shoved a vampire away and punched another approaching vamp in the stomach. The teenage male doubled over, but then delivered a jarring punch to Johnny's jaw, one so powerful that it spun him around as he hit the concrete.

"Johnny!" Buffy exclaimed as she saw him go down after dusting another vampire. The stake fell out of John's hands as he lay on the ground motionless. The teenage male vamp grabbed him by the shoulder and rolled him onto his back, glaring down at him with sharp fangs.

"This won't hurt a bit," he hissed, "after the first hour." Johnny all of a sudden sat up and head-butted the vampire crushingly. The vamp went back as Johnny pushed himself to his feet. The male vamp flipped up onto his feet as John punched him in the face and added a kick to the chest. As more vampires approached Johnny from behind, he drove the stake into the heart of the vampire, dusting him.

Another grabbed Johnny from behind, binding its arms around his shoulders. He drove his elbow into the vamp's chest and side-kicked him away. A female vampire rushed him from the left as Johnny jabbed the stake into her heart, finishing her instantly.

Another vampire tossed aside by Buffy crawled on the ground below the mayhem towards Johnny. He was already fighting with a dark-skinned male, swinging slow punches, one of them connecting with Johnny's jaw.

* * *

_He saw himself being bitten from behind by the male vampire as it jumped off the ground and buried its fangs into his shoulder. _

* * *

Johnny kicked the dark-skinned vampire into a wooden crate, the smashed pieces of which dusted it, while he jabbed his stake out behind him without looking and buried it into the heart of the approaching vampire as it jumped up from the ground.

Each of them took on the vampires, steadily holding their own as Buffy killed the last of them. The dust settled around them as they stood side-by-side, panting in stunned silence. Johnny gazed around at the piles of dust as the breeze took them away while Buffy turned around and fixated her stare on him.

"What?" Johnny asked, noticing her confused expression.

Buffy gazed at him, perplexed, as she tried to catch her breath. "You…" The words simply faded off the first time, but she then restarted and continued as she gazed at him with a furrowed brow. "You… didn't miss the heart." He stared back at her, just as confused as she.

"What does that mean?" he asked, shaking his head.

Buffy stared at him, stunned out of words to explain. "You didn't… miss." Another roar suddenly let out from the street, ripping their attention away.

"Looks like you're popular tonight," Johnny observed as he cautiously gazed at the dark street, expecting more vampires to arrive shortly.

"This is different," Buffy declared. "These vamps are possessed. They're looking for us." She grabbed him by the arm as they took off down the alley in the opposite direction. "Come on. Let's get out of here."


	8. Hope

**LEGAL A/N:** _Buffy the Vampire Slayer_ and all characters belong to Joss Whedon, Fox, UPN and the WB. _The Dead Zone_ and all characters belong to Shawn & Michael Piller, Stephen King, Lion's Gate Television and USA Network. No profit is being made off of this and no copyright infringement is intended.

**NOTE FROM THE AUTHOR:** Sequel to Real. Post-BTVS S7 "Chosen" and post-DZ S4 "Vangaurd"

**8: Hope**

At the same time of night, Walt Bannerman was driving his grey SUV through the streets of New York City with Bruce Lewis in the passenger seat. The buff, off-duty sheriff from Maine with short, brown, curly hair and brown eyes kept his gaze ahead, but his mind was wrapping itself around Bruce's confusing recollection of what happened.

"He said he was having dreams of her," Bruce declared as they slowly made their way through the thick traffic on their way back from John F. Kennedy International Airport. "She would appear and die in front of him. Then he'd wake up."

"What?" Walt exclaimed, baffled. "I thought his visions only worked when he touched something."

"He did touch something… but not when he was dreaming."

"What are you talking about?"

"There was a cross lying around in his house," Bruce explained. "Johnny had never seen it before, but it was sitting there – almost as if it had been laid out for him to find."

"And when he touched the cross he got a vision of this girl dying?"

Bruce nodded in reply, then added, "Last I know is Johnny's got no idea where or how this girl's going to die."

"Well if I know John it won't take long to figure it out," Walt answered. Bruce looked over at him in uncomfortable silence. "What?" Walt asked, noting his stare. There was something else, but Bruce didn't know how to explain it.

"On the way back from Sunnydale," Bruce began slowly, trying to make sense of it himself, "Johnny mentioned something about her being in a gang of vigilantes."

"We checked the files," he replied as he turned on to a less-crowed side street. "Buffy Summers does have a record dating back to when she was fifteen."

"Not that kind of vigilance," Bruce explained with some hesitance. "The superhero kind." Walt turned to him immediately and gave him the most incredulous look he could give. "One of the girls that walked into the room," Bruce added, "the one that put me to sleep, wasn't normal."

"She knocked you out?"

Bruce explained with much difficulty, "No, not like that. She looked at me and I _fell_ asleep."

"What are you saying, Bruce?" Walt asked in confusion. "You were put to sleep by some… voodoo, cult woman?"

"No," Bruce answered, "I'm saying I got owned by Sabrina the Teenage Witch."

"No offense, Bruce, but that's insane," Walt declared.

"I know," he said, nodding his head as he rolled his eyes. "It's crazy, but Johnny's the one that mentioned it."

"Are you sure you're not _both_ insane?" Walt said, glancing over him with a humored, half-smile.

Bruce shook his head tiredly, at a loss. "Not anymore."

Walt sighed a bit, then answered, "Well, we'll just get in touch with NYPD and—"

The steering wheel suddenly locked and the brake pedal hit the floor. Walt looked up in horror to see a woman standing in the middle of the street ahead, but couldn't steer the car in any other direction. He and Bruce braced themselves as the tires screeched and squealed until the car came to a sudden halt only inches away from the woman.

The young, redhead stood staring at them motionlessly. She wore a dark blue suede jacket over blue jeans and a beige t-shirt, her layered red hair framing her stone face. She hadn't budged since they saw her, almost as if she knew they wouldn't be successful in hitting her so there was no need to move. Bruce and Walt gazed at her with jaws agape as Bruce recognized her face.

"It's her!" he whispered to Walt.

"Who?"

"Sabrina!"

They gave each other a look, then turned back to the road as the redhead began a determined march around the car to the passenger side. She stood at the passenger door and glared inside at Bruce through the window.

"Get out," she ordered simply. Bruce stared at her through the windshield, considering his chances.

He turned to Walt and asked, "When's the last time you've been pulled over?" Walt nodded, understanding his point. Bruce then opened the door and stepped outside of the car. Walt did the same, staring at the usually friendly-looking woman cautiously.

Bruce looked down at the front of the car where she had been standing, and then turned back to the redhead with wide eyes. "Willow?" he asked. She nodded as he added with surprise, "How did you do that?"

"Magic," she shrugged.

Bruce shot Walt a look and exclaimed, "See? I told you so!" Walt simply gazed at them both, dumbfounded, glancing down at the tire marks on the road.

"I think your friend found Buffy," Willow began, "and I need your help to find him."

"Johnny got away?" Walt asked.

"At the airport earlier today," Willow answered. "He must have seen something that led him to believe Buffy was in New York and made a run for it."

"Why would we help you?" Bruce demanded. "You kidnapped Johnny and were going to do… god knows what to him once you got what you wanted."

Willow responded confidently, "I know you're going to help me."

"And how do you know that?" Bruce asked. "Because you're going to pull more magic tricks on us if we don't?"

"Because Buffy is a good person," Willow answered calmly, a softness arising in her green eyes which gave them pause. "She's lost, and-and confused… and scared. She's my best friend. I'll do anything to make sure she's okay. And I'm sure you understand what I'm talking about."

Bruce eyed her suspiciously, but heeded her words. After a few moments of hesitation, he nodded in agreement. "I can start by telling you this," Bruce declared. "Johnny Smith isn't the bad guy."

Walt added, "If John wants anything from your friend it's to save her."

"Save her?" Willow repeated, her face full of bewilderment. "From what?"

* * *

"Greg Stillson," Buffy declared, her mind mulling over the name. She sat next to Johnny in the shadows beneath the Queensboro Bridge, their backs up against a cement pillar near 59th street. The moon shined down on the East River around them, casting a glowing sparkle off of the waves. Johnny watched as Buffy gazed down at the moon's reflection with heavy, aged eyes that had seemed to see the birth and death of many, many ages. Such an old expression for someone so young and seemingly innocent.

"He's the one that'll end it," she added, musing over the horrifying visions that she and Johnny shared. "Funny. I always thought it would be something with horns."

"I'm almost certain he's got them," he scoffed with a bitter tone.

"How do we stop him?" Buffy calmly asked.

He sighed, shaking his head, "I wish I knew." Johnny leaned back against the pillar tiredly as he explained, "I see a jigsaw puzzle in my head. I can only keep moving the pieces around until I like the picture that comes out."

"I guess now our jigsaw's broken," Buffy frowned.

He rolled his eyes as he considered, "_And_ the pieces are missing."

Buffy turned to him with a hopeful expression she obtained from her memories of every conversation she'd had with Johnny in her dreams. "I'm sure we can figure it out together."

Johnny looked over at her with a worried face. "Oh, no. I don't think so."

"What?" she responded, offended.

"This is for me and me alone to solve," Johnny answered.

Buffy gave him an unimpressed look. "If you're going to go on the Lone Ranger path, trust me – I've blazed the trail. But if we're going to stop this from happening you'll need my help."

"No," he answered strongly. "I really don't."

Buffy gave him a glare as she crossed her arms. "Okay, Percepto-Boy. When's it going to happen?" Johnny was silent for several minutes as her eyes burned him to the third degree.

"I…" he began to answer, and then let the words trail off in defeat. "I don't know."

"How does it happen?"

"Nuclear weapons," he answered quickly.

"You sure?" she asked. Johnny opened his mouth to answer, but paused again – he wasn't. He turned away from her in defeat as she observed, "You don't know enough about it to stop it, do you?"

"No," he whispered with a dark voice. "I don't. I don't know, Buffy." His volume rose as he turned back to her, "I don't know how, I don't know when." Johnny snapped at her in bitter anger, "All I know is that it's going to happen, Stillson's the cause of it, and I don't need you!"

The second his sentence was over he regretted saying it. Buffy stared at him blankly, blinking as she reeled back from his lashing of words. She turned her shamed face away from him and gazed out at the water.

"I see," she quietly responded as his hard expression melted away, replaced by one of guilt. "Maybe you'll need my help when the world's going up in flames." Buffy stared out at the river with a hurt, angry expression that she bottled up. Johnny looked out at the water with a sigh, then looked back over at her and began humbly.

"That's not what I meant—"

"Then what did you mean?" Buffy cut him off. Clearly, his careless phrase, 'I don't need you,' was one that had scoured her before.

Johnny gazed at her hesitantly, then stared down at his hands as he answered. "I've told three people I care about the truth about Stillson," he began. "One of them left me. One of them is dead. The other could end up dead any day." Buffy turned to him as he sighed with a gloomy, exhausted tone, "No matter how hard I try, the people I love end up getting hurt."

She viewed the sadness in his eyes and understood the sincerity of his actions. This was the Johnny that she knew: the one that understood the weight of the world. He said hopelessly, "Every time I've tried to face Stillson somebody that doesn't deserve it ends up disappearing. And there's absolutely nothing I can do to stop it." A bitter half-smile appeared on his face. "Ironic, isn't it?" he replied. "The great John Smith is perhaps the most powerless person on the face of the earth." The smile faded as the truth of the words jabbed him in the heart.

Buffy stared at him quietly, her expression warm and understanding. "I don't think that's true."

Johnny turned to her with a curious gaze, a bemused smile forming. "I thought we agreed that you didn't really know me?" he softly asked.

"Granted," Buffy sighed with a light tone, "for a while there I _did_ think you were a figment of my imagination. But it's not like that's the first time that's happened, either."

"Really?"

"Just be glad I didn't tie you up in a basement and almost feed you to a demon," she smiled. He grinned at her response, but Buffy stared at him intently, the honesty and sincerity returning to her voice. "But… I think you're the kind of guy who would travel back and forth across the country to help a girl you've never even met," Buffy began appreciatively. "You're the type of guy who would spend his time watching the worst parts of a stranger's life unfold… just so you can relate." A warmer smile formed on her face as she declared kindly, "You're the kind of person I've been trying to find for a very long time, Johnny. A person that'll save _me_ for a change."

Johnny gazed at her in speechless silence, a smile forming on his face of gratitude and most importantly – hope.

* * *

Sunlight poured in through the stein-glass windows of the hotel suite as Greg Stillson paced back and forth with a piece of paper in hand, going over his lines for his upcoming speech. Malcolm Janus stood nearby, staring at him with beady, narrow eyes and a long, observing face when Ethan Rayne walked in, still in the shirt and dress slacks he wore the night before.

"How did it go?" Janus asked.

"Not as well as I had hoped," Ethan declared with a frown on his face. "They haven't brought us the Slayer yet." Stillson turned towards them and watched as if he were standing on the other side of a window and trying to climb through.

Janus' face fell with disappointment and fret. "That's not good news, Ethan. I thought we had an agreement."

"This isn't an exact science," he sighed with explanation. "Keep in mind, she's no fool."

"Of course not," Janus replied. "She's the greatest Slayer the world has ever known. Speed. Agility. Intelligence."

"Looks," Stillson grinned with attraction as he gazed down at a beautiful, professional picture of Buffy Summers taken when she was a senior sitting on his table that they had brought to him. "She's pretty hot. What do you boys have planned for her? _Please_ tell me that with a body like that I'll have the pleasure of meeting her."

"Don't worry, Congressman," Janus turned to him with a smile. "You'll have your way with her soon enough. That is, if Mr. Rayne keeps his end of the deal."

"Don't worry about me," Ethan declared defensively. "How is the dim Mr. Knox doing?"

"Illyria has risen," Janus answered with a pleased tone. "Team Angel is up in arms over the loss of one of their own."

"Do they suspect anything?" Ethan asked.

"Absolutely nothing," Janus smirked. "That hermit Drogyn told them what he believed – the sarcophagus simply vanished as it was predestined to."

Ethan grinned, "And Drogyn can only speak the truth…"

"Or at least what he _believes_ to be true," Janus added as he and Ethan burst into prideful laughter. Stillson stood in between them with wide eyes, looking back and forth at them as they chuckled villainously, completely lost.

"Right…" Stillson declared with confused eyes as he slowly walked to the door. "I'm gonna go get an Egg McMuffin."

* * *

The moon shined overhead as Johnny Smith walked down a residential street and crossed over a luscious, expensive, emerald lawn. He was dressed in dirty, torn clothes and his face was smudged with soot. He stared at the windows of the home and could make out the blurry silhouettes of two adults. He could hear indistinct shouting and arguing coming from inside the house, particularly in the room where the two adults were swarming around each other.

Johnny continued to walk across the lawn to another section of the house and stopped as he came to a small window. Inside, he viewed what he had been looking for. Fifteen-year-old Buffy Summers stood inside of her bathroom, staring at the cabinet mirror, watching the sad tears roll down her cheeks as she listened to her parents shouting in the next room.

He looked away from her tearful face, his heart aching inside of his chest. He couldn't stand to see her bruised and torn heart, and wished he could keep it safe and warm it with his own. Johnny's eyes lifted off of the ground and found the bathroom window again to see a terrifying sight – one that didn't belong.

Buffy stood in the window, gazing out at Johnny with tearful, horrified eyes and a strong hand covering her mouth. Greg Stillson, with eyes as black as night, held Buffy still with one arm and quiet with the other as he gazed at Johnny tauntingly. Helplessly, Johnny watched as Stillson's face morphed into that of a vampire's, but with his eyes remaining blacked-out. He heard a muffled scream as Stillson buried his teeth viciously into the left side of Buffy's neck.

* * *

Johnny gasped as his eyes opened wide and he popped into consciousness. Buffy, sound asleep on Johnny's shoulder, awakened with a start after he jolted from his nightmare. She looked around her unfamiliar settings and remembered that they were still under the bridge and how they got there. She turned to Johnny as he stared down at the ground, cold beads of sweat forming on his face.

"What is it?" she exclaimed with worry. "Did you see something?"

Johnny hesitated, then answered, "I-I can't really explain. It happened again. It was a nightmare… but it was real."

"Like I said," Buffy sighed, "I've had plenty of those. Trust me. Listen to the little voice."  
Johnny considered her words for a few moments, then turned back to her with a decided expression. "I think Stillson's a vampire."

Buffy stared at him peculiarly in silence. "Okay, maybe you should talk to your little voice first."

"It sounds crazy, I know," Johnny said, shaking his head as he contemplated deeply. "You said vampires don't have souls, right? That's not a very far walk for Greg Stillson. We need to look into it."

She sighed in agreement, "You're right. But first… we need to eat. I've been starved since last night." She came to a stand and brushed the dirt off of her jeans, leaving Johnny in deep deliberation.

He looked up at her with a surprised expression. "You know, me too," Johnny answered, getting up to follow her.


	9. Desperate Measures

**LEGAL A/N:** _Buffy the Vampire Slayer_ and all characters belong to Joss Whedon, Fox, UPN and the WB. _The Dead Zone_ and all characters belong to Shawn & Michael Piller, Stephen King, Lion's Gate Television and USA Network. No profit is being made off of this and no copyright infringement is intended.

**NOTE FROM THE AUTHOR:** Sequel to Real. Post-BTVS S7 "Chosen" and post-DZ S4 "Vanguard"

**9: Desperate Measures**

Bruce and Walt sat on a couch against a hotel room wall with anxious expressions on their faces. Around them, Giles, Willow, Dawn and Xander stood authoritatively as they tried to extract information from the two of them, however they couldn't tell them much except that Buffy was in danger and Johnny made it their mission to save her. Although their lack of knowledge was only slowing things down, they stopped treating one another like "the bad guys," but still kept their suspicious stares.

Giles shook his head and removed his glasses tiredly. "I don't believe a single word of it," he declared, after Bruce had told them everything that he knew of Buffy's future demise.

"It's not anything you'd like to think about," Walt added with a bit of sympathy. "But as hard as it is to believe - Johnny's visions are never wrong."

"That's a fact," Bruce agreed, nodding his head.

"Well, maybe he's interpreting them wrong," Giles spat in denial.

Dawn, an expression of worry plastered on her face, turned to Willow, Xander and Giles with wide eyes. "We have to find Buffy," she pleaded. "Now."

"That's kind of been our mission," Xander answered. "But how?"

Willow explained, "The-the locator spell doesn't seem to be working."

Walt stared at her with stunned eyes. "The _what_?"

"A locator spell," Willow repeated.

Bruce and Walt were shocked into silence as Bruce sighed and went along with the whole thing. Walt shook his head, holding up his hands in disagreement, "Whoa… this can't be real—"

"We're in the Twilight Zone," Bruce said to Walt. "Remember?" He turned to Willow and the Scoobies. "Continue."

Dawn asked impatiently, "Why isn't it working?"

"It's kind of like a traffic jam," Willow replied slowly. "There's a lot of mystical energy flying around this city. It's kind of like a big, witch clog or something."

"This looks like a job for…" Xander announced in a mighty voice, but then let the volume fade away as he struggled to think of the end of the sentence. "Uh… Drain-O Man?"

"Even with such a population as this," Giles said as he pondered the facts, "it's extremely unlikely that the small amount of energy from the sum of spells being conducted could jam a locator spell."

"Not a small amount of energy," Willow clarified. "We're talking _sumo_ energy."

Giles stared at her inquisitively as a grim expression formed on his face. "Which would suggest one, major spell instead of millions of small ones."

"You saying someone's trying to pull the wool over our eyes?" Xander asked. "Whatever _that_ expression means."

Willow and Giles stared at each other with growing worry and suspicion. "A demon birth?" Giles suggested.

"A resurrection?" Willow added.

Giles looked over at the baffled Bangor-ians. "Do you two know anything about this?"

Bruce shook his head in confusion. "The only resurrections I know about are _Alien_ and _Halloween_."

"Oh, those sucked," Xander answered quickly. They turned to him, giving him a bemused look. "Sorry," Xander apologized, blushing sheepishly.

"Wait, I have an idea," Willow announced suddenly. "I think I can make it work."

"How?" Dawn asked.

"Unfortunately," Willow responded with a long face, "it'll involve temporarily leaving the plane."

"That's extremely dangerous," Giles warned with concern.

She looked at him with a sigh as she shrugged, "Desperate times…"

* * *

Johnny sat at a diner table wearing the dark blue, button-up shirt he'd worn last night as the morning light shined down on him. He sat inside of the small diner near Central Park, stirring his coffee idly and intently staring at the empty plate that he had all but wiped clean. Surprisingly, he did not feel very tired at all. He had slept less than five hours in two nights, but he felt just fine and assumed it had something to do with constant adrenaline. Or maybe it was being in Buffy's presence.

He shook his head slightly, feeling glad that at that moment he was alone at the table. Buffy had gotten up after quickly finishing her two meals of sausage, eggs, pancakes, bacon and whatever else she could stomach and was currently washing her face in the bathroom after last night's adventures while her and Johnny's next meals were being cooked. However, he was having enough trouble keeping his consuming thoughts of Buffy out of his mind with her sitting right in front of him; now they were there all the time.

Questions kept arising in his mind concerning the randomness of his visions. Why did he keep taking the place of her ex-boyfriend? Johnny, by now, had assumed that he was a vampire, but wasn't quite clear on all that. How could Buffy ever love something without a soul?

He paused again, holding on his thought. Buffy had said nothing about vampires not having souls. In that weird Anne Rice movie he'd seen with Sarah on Halloween night over a decade ago, Tom Cruise had a conscience and just chose to ignore it. It was a general assumption, though he hadn't really seriously considered how vampires really felt until just this moment.

_Is her ex-boyfriend the one that kills her?_ Johnny wondered, pulling his mind back on subject. Perhaps the visions weren't so random after all. Is her ex connected to the situation? Or is Johnny somehow connected to her ex?

A strange sensation came over him. Johnny's eyes lifted off of the plate and began to bat around the lightly-populated diner. He gazed around at the various people inside as they carried on with their conversations, reading the newspaper, eating their food, and talking on their cell phones, oblivious to Johnny's presence. His eyes spotted two men in the back as they entered from the kitchen.

Both were the trucker-type – one with white skin, the other with dark skin and both had beady dark eyes. Besides being unkempt and scruffy, they seemed quite normal to anyone else looking at them. Anyone else.

Johnny stood up from his chair and followed them as they turned a corner and disappeared from the main diner area to a hallway leading to the back. John walked around the bar and through the hanging-down beads covering the back hallway leading to the restrooms to find the two men standing outside of the bathroom door as one of them banged obnoxiously on it.

He marched up to the taller, dark-skinned man, grabbed him by the shoulder and yanked him around. He pulled his face into a wall, slamming it and then yanked him back to the ground. The other trucker spun around with angry eyes, glaring at Johnny.

Johnny punched him in the face twice with a devastating right and left hook combination. He kicked the trucker in the stomach, knocking him back against the bathroom door. As the trucker recoiled, he charged at Johnny, the psychic responding with a spinning roundhouse kick to the face. Behind him, the taller trucker jumped up and wrapped his arms around Johnny, pinning them to his sides. The other trucker came at John with a punch, but he got a kick in the chest that knocked him down. Johnny bent over and threw the other trucker over him, the dark-skinned man landing flat on his back.

Johnny stared down at the man on the floor and out of the corner of his eye, he could see the other trucker coming towards him at full-speed. Without thinking, Johnny whipped the stake out of the pocket of his black slacks and drove it into the man's chest. The man froze with an expression of horrible pain as he stared down at the wooden spike sticking out of his heart. Johnny gazed down at it, wide-eyed, and then looked up at the man. With a howl, the trucker exploded into a cloud of dust.

With wide eyes, he stared at the falling ashes as the other trucker flipped off of the floor and onto his feet. Johnny snapped back into action, turning and side-kicking him out of the hallway. The bathroom door opened as Buffy came out with a confused expression, watching the two of them roll out into the dining area. The customers outside instantly broke their conversations and turned to watch the fight continue while one or two people ducked out of the door.

Screams broke out as Johnny and the remaining trucker came to a stand, both of them swinging martial arts punches, kicks and blocks at one another. Johnny moved with surprising speed and form, not phased at all by any of the devastatingly powerful blows he received.

The dark-skinned trucker swung his beefy arm at Johnny, but he leaned back out of its path. When he straightened out, he grabbed the trucker's arm and broke it with a slight twist of the wrist. The trucker yelled with pain as Johnny grabbed him by the throat, pulled him back and threw him through the restaurant window out onto the sunny sidewalk outside.

Johnny, the waiters, and the customers watched in horror as the screams increased and the trucker burst into flames. The others broke into a panic as they watched the flaming corpse while Johnny felt a strong grip around his arm.

* * *

_"This is the end for you, Slayer," Ethan Rayne declared as Buffy came to a bloody and beaten stand, weakened severely with broken shackles on her wrists. The two of them squared off again and prepared for the next and last round of their fight._

* * *

Buffy yanked him out of the diner as they took off running at full-speed down the back alley. Although the Slayer was running as fast as she could, Johnny had no trouble keeping up with her.

It was more than a minute or two until they found a shaded, secluded area near an abandoned warehouse and came to a stop. Both of them stood still for a few moments, tiredly trying to catch their breath.

"Are you okay?" Johnny asked, the air coming back to his lungs.

"What the hell was that?" Buffy asked in shock.

He shook his head, baffled. "I-I don't know," he breathed. "Those vamps walked in and… they were after you."

"Did you see it in a vision?"

"No—"

"Then how did you know they were vampires?" Buffy demanded as she stared at him suspiciously.

Johnny stared at her in confusion. "Wh-what?"

"They never vamped!" she exclaimed. "Not once. But you knew." Johnny looked away from her as he considered her point, not knowing how to react or explain. "Oh," she sarcastically added, "not to mention – you threw him through a _window_!" She glanced him up and down as another thought came into her mind. "Didn't you used to have a cane?" she asked randomly.

"Huh?" he answered, puzzled. "Well… yes, but… What does that have to do with anything?"

Buffy sighed and rolled her eyes, "My point is this—" Without warning, she pulled back her fist and swung at him. Johnny reached up in the blink of an eye and grabbed her fist, twisting her arm around and pinning it to her back on reflex. Johnny froze in his movements, stunned and surprised by himself – with Buffy facing away from him and her arm pinned behind her.

Buffy breathed as she remained in the pinned position, "I'm guessing you've never taking any martial arts classes, have you?"

"No," he shook his head, amazed.

"Then it's happening to you, too," Buffy explained. "I'm getting your powers… and you're getting mine." Johnny let go of her as the two of them broke apart, staring at each other in utter bewilderment, a million thoughts racing through their minds.

"Has this ever happened before?" he asked.

Buffy shook her head with a frown. "Not even remotely."

"I don't understand," Johnny said. "Why would I need to be the Slayer?"

"There has to be a reason," Buffy resolved. "Maybe we're both supposed to figure this out." She then looked up at him knowingly and inquisitively. "And there's something you're not telling me." Johnny glanced up at her as she caught him off guard. Her face was firm and requesting as she added, "What did you see?"

He blinked at her, silent for several moments before he looked away again. "I saw you," he began after extreme hesitance, "dying. A vampire was feeding off of you… but I don't know which one. That's why I came to find you."

Buffy continued to stare at him, but then pulled her eyes away and gazed at the ground calmly. Never in his life had he seen anyone take the news that he had seen a vision of them dying so serenely.

"Well," she sighed. "_That's_ not news I've never heard before." Her hopeful eyes lifted up and found his. "You sure it's not a rerun?"

His moment of relief in her reactions disappeared as grim reality set in. "I'm sure," Johnny nodded.

She crossed her arms. "Where?"

"In L.A. as far as I can tell," he answered. "And now that you're here, I figured that we changed the future and you wouldn't be in any danger."

"And the catch is…?"

"I just got another vision," he admitted somberly. "I saw you fighting right before you die."

"Figures," she shrugged. "Everyone always said that's the kind that suits me."

"Who's Ethan Rayne?" Johnny blurted.

Buffy glanced up at him, surprised. "You _are_ good," she declared. "He's a sniveling little pipsqueak from my past. Why?"

"He's the guy you were fighting in my vision," Johnny replied.

Buffy gazed at him incredulously. "Are you sure he was _fighting_?" she asked. "Are you sure he wasn't _cowering_?" He stared at her, puzzled, as she explained, "Ethan Rayne doesn't fight. He runs away and hides."

"Well, he wasn't planning on going anywhere," Johnny declared grimly.

"But he's not a vampire," she answered, confused. "In fact, last I heard, he was stuck in a military prison base run by the Initiative…" The words ran dry as a sudden look of realization struck her face. "Which… I kind of destroyed… Oh." She sheepishly glanced up at him. "I guess he got out."

Johnny nodded as he inherited the information, but new questions came up in his mind. He looked down at the ground, not wanting to open his mouth for fear that they would come out.

"What?" Buffy asked, noticing his hesitation.

Johnny looked up at her, quiet for a moment, and then began. "Most of my visions… they're from the same point of view." Buffy looked away instantly, obviously stating that she knew what he was talking about and didn't want to bring it up.

"So?" she carelessly replied.

"I need to know why," he answered. "Your ex… what was his name?"

"Which one?" she asked, putting on a clueless guise.

"You know which one," Johnny declared. He unbuttoned one of the buttons on his shirt and pulled it open, revealing the cross-shaped burn mark.

Buffy stared at it momentarily, and then looked away again. "Angel."

"Angel," he repeated, recognizing the name. "Do you think he's involved with this?"

"I don't want to think about it."

"But you have to—"

"You don't get it!" Buffy snapped, glaring at him as he obviously opened up a deep wound.

Johnny stared at her calmly and quietly, then answered with a soft tone that she had remembered from all her dreams, "Then explain it to me."

Buffy gazed up at him, bewildered once more. She crossed her arms and looked away, then slowly began, "He's a vampire with a soul. But he's also the kind of vampire you never want to meet when he's soulless. The worst ever. I know this for a fact… because I got to meet him."

Johnny remembered his vision of himself being extremely cruel to Buffy. She continued, "He tried to destroy the world. And I had to stop him." Buffy swallowed hard and said painfully, "I loved him more than anything in the world, but I still killed him to save it."

"He came back?"

"He did. Still not sure how. And he was Angel again, but things were never the same," she replied with a dark tone. He looked up at her, "He left, moved on… I moved on. We ended up with different lives." She sighed, rolling her eyes, "It's the whole Champion-destiny clause."

Johnny stared at her sympathetically. She made the decision that he could never bring himself to make. "I'm sorry. It must have been very hard."

"It was the hardest thing I ever had to do," she replied. "But it was right." She looked up at him with worried eyes. "Now he's running an evil law firm. I've _really_ got no idea how that happened."

"You think he may be evil again?"

"Like I said," she answered, "I don't want to think." She swallowed hard, wrapping her arms around herself tightly. "After everything that's happened… I don't think I'm strong enough anymore. It's been seven years, but it's still the one thing that's always scared me."

"What?" he asked.

"A year ago, Giles asked me if knowing what I knew then, would I sacrifice Dawn to save the world," Buffy explained. "Or would I have the same feelings that I had two years before that? I told him that I would sacrifice her." She frowned, shaking her head. "But I think I lied."

"There's nothing wrong with that," he responded.

"But it's not the 'Slayer way,'" Buffy sighed. "I'm supposed to be strong enough to make that decision again in a second if I have to. But for whatever reason – I'm not anymore. I'm just too… weak."

"I think I understand it now," Johnny said. She looked up at him in confusion as he gazed down at her admiringly. "That's not weakness," he answered. "It's love."

Buffy stared up at him, studying him carefully. "You sound like you _do_ understand," she said, having multiple cases of déjà vu. Her half-smile faded a bit as she sighed and declared, "I guess you understand then why we can't afford to love." She slumped and turned away from him in defeat. Johnny stared at her, trying to hide his wounded expression. He looked away at the ground as she turned back to him tiredly. "We need to figure out what's going on here," Buffy declared, getting back to business. She paused as an idea popped into her head. "I think I know how."

* * *

Hot sand squeezed between Willow's toes as she stepped gently across desert. She wandered far and wide with the sun hanging low over the flat plains as she traveled across the cradle of civilization. Slowly, she came to a stop, gazing around the area and supposedly being alone.

Willow turned around again to face a crawling, dark-skinned woman dressed in ragged animal skins with wild black hair and savage black eyes. War paint was plastered on her face as she glowered up at the intruder.

"I need your help," Willow declared. "One of your kind has gone missing."

"That is common among our kind," a raspy, wild voice declared.

"I don't believe she's dead yet. But we have to find her. The world depends on it."

"I cannot help you."

"Wait," Willow called as the First Slayer began to turn away. "You must. Buffy… the Slayer… she's the one I'm talking about. You've met her before." Willow continued with a short, yet accurate description. "Blond… Yay high… Talks a lot?"

"She is no longer one."

"Yes, I understand," Willow sighed. "She's one of many now. But she's still important."

"You misunderstand," the First Slayer declared. "She is one with another."

Willow stared at her in confused. "Oh, well… yeah…" She shook her head, lost. "Huh?" Willow stared into the Primitive's wild eyes as they grew larger, pulling her into their darkness. She could not take her eyes away as the First Slayer began to speak slowly in a foreign tongue, Willow's expression growing more and more concerned and worried as she listened with perfect understanding.

* * *

Giles stood over the hotel room bed anxiously as Willow lay back in a comatose state. Xander and Dawn stood back as they eyed the clock nervously, while Bruce and Walt sat nearby with curious and confused expressions. Xander looked up at Giles.

"How will we know she's done?" he asked.

Willow's eyes suddenly opened wide as she gasped ferociously, sitting straight up in the bed as if she'd awakened from a horrible nightmare.

"Oh," Xander replied.

Giles grabbed Willow by the arms to contain her as he comfortingly declared, "You're back. Everything's all right…"

"No," Willow shook her head with tears brimming her eyes. "It's not." The others looked down and gazed at her horrified frown.

Dawn asked with worry, "What did you find out?"

"Something…" Willow struggled to speak through her gasps for air, "Something… is coming. Something big." She looked down as she continued to try to catch her breath.

"That's it?" Giles responded.

"Geez, Will," Xander said. "Could I get that vague any more super-sized?"

"I saw the First Slayer…" Willow explained.

"The Primitive?" Giles declared as he removed his glasses in astonishment. "This is much graver than we thought."

"Wait, who?" Bruce asked.

"She told me that a Slayer is in danger," Willow explained. "She said, 'She'll be chosen to give birth to the ultimate enemy.'"

Walt asked, shaking his head, "What are we talking about here?"

Willow continued, "'She shall give life to the god the fifth time her blood is tasted.'"

"Okay," Bruce sighed, "before I was just pretending, but now I really have no idea what's going on."

Willow said, trying to remember, "The god will enslave the earth."

"Wow," Xander noted, "_that_ part's pretty clear."

Walt leaned back in his chair, overwhelmed, and tiredly rubbed his eyes as he idly spoke aloud to himself. "Oh, boy, John. If you knew ten years ago where you'd be now…"

"What happened ten years ago?" Dawn asked.

"That's when Johnny went into a coma," Bruce explained. "He had his accident June 6, 1995."

Giles eyes widened instantly as Bruce's words reverberated in his mind. He looked up at them, stunned, as he replied, "What did you say?"


	10. Destined

**LEGAL A/N:** _Buffy the Vampire Slayer_ and all characters belong to Joss Whedon, Fox, UPN and the WB. _The Dead Zone_ and all characters belong to Shawn & Michael Piller, Stephen King, Lion's Gate Television and USA Network. No profit is being made off of this and no copyright infringement is intended.

**NOTE FROM THE AUTHOR:** Sequel to Real. Post-BTVS S7 "Chosen" and post-DZ S4 "Vanguard"

**10: Destined**

"I've gotta quit renting hotel rooms," Johnny sighed as he lit a candle. "Somehow I feel this one's not going to work out very long either." He and Buffy were, in fact, in a brand new hotel room with the doors firmly locked and the curtains drawn.

"We just have to make sure we get done before sundown," Buffy answered as she lit a candle. A circle of sand was poured on the floor around the room with several candles, both lit and unlit, adorning the circle.

"Are you sure this is going to work?" Johnny asked skeptically.

"It's worked before," she answered. "I remember Giles telling me something about it sometime…"

"Oh," he replied as Buffy handed him another candle. "It's nice to know you remember all the important details."

"Give me a break," she shrugged. "A lot happened that day."

"You found out your little sister was the Key," he answered.

Buffy glanced up at him with a surprised expression. "Yeah… how did you—?"

"One touch," Johnny responded, lifting up a hand.

She gave him a sparkling half-smile. "Should've figured that one out by now." The thought of how hard it would be to keep things from him passed through her mind. However, now it seems that there would be nothing to keep from him. A boyfriend she could be completely honest with. She paused, nearly dropping the lit candle.

_Boyfriend_, she repeated. It was strange, but not really. In her mind, she had already classified him as such because of their frequent dream visits… moments… and other events that made her blush. She glanced up at him for a second as he lit the next candle, and then quickly pulled her eyes away. She was quite fine with that idea, but had to realize that he wouldn't be. He barely knew her.

"So how does this work?" Johnny asked, breaking her train of thought thankfully.

"Uh… um…" Buffy struggled to get herself on track. "Cloutier's trance will either get us in a connected state of mind," she explained, and added with hesitance, "or transport us to another dimension."

"Again I ask – are you sure this is going to work?"

"You got any other options?" she asked as they came to a stand.

He nodded, "Good point."

Buffy gazed around at the materials for the trance. "Okay," she breathed as she and Johnny sat down facing each other inside the circle. "Monsieur Silky Knickers," she nervously began, "show us your stuff."

Buffy held out her open hands to Johnny, again throwing him off balance. He looked down at her palms, and then gazed up at her. Once more, he found himself hesitating to touch her, but not for the normal, obvious reasons.

They both closed their eyes and joined hands.

* * *

After a deep breath, they both opened their eyes to find themselves sitting on a tiled floor in a spacious, darkened room with a familiar scent touching Buffy's nose. Buffy gazed around to view a check out desk with an old computer sitting on top of it next to a set of double doors with circular windows. She looked over to her right to see a locked, metal cage room containing shelves of weapons and musty books.

Johnny looked to the back of the room to see a two-level library with dozens and dozens of bookshelves and a huge, oak table sitting in the middle beneath a darkened skylight window. "Oh, my god," Buffy breathed, gazing around.

"What are we doing in your high school library?" Johnny asked in mystification. He held her hand firmly in his as they both came to a stand. Buffy turned around to face a tall, gorgeous, brunette woman with a tanned face, grey slacks and an expensive grey blouse of lace and silk. Deep brown curls framed her million-dollar smile of warmth as she gazed at Buffy with knowing dark eyes.

The Slayer gazed at her in amazement. "Cordelia?" she declared. Johnny turned around towards the beautiful woman who sat on the reference table casually with her legs crossed.

"Buffy," Cordelia grinned. They stared at each other quietly and in shock for several moments before Cordy offered, "How are you?"

"Psychic," Buffy answered. "You?"

"Dead."

"Dead?" she repeated in bewilderment.

"Yeah…" Cordy frowned. "But… luckily – the Powers owed me one. Or, two to be exact. And since I've already taken care of my boss, consider this my final payback for all those mean things I said about you in high school."

"Oh…" Buffy nodded, struggling to understand and going along with things. "Um… okay. Thanks." She looked over at Johnny, who stood with a bewildered expression. "Um, Johnny… this is Cordelia. Cordelia, Johnny."

"Uh… hi," Johnny smiled with a wave of his hand.

"My pleasure," Cordelia nodded, obviously in control of the situation. "Now, you've got questions. I've got some answers. Shoot."

"Is Ethan behind this?" Buffy asked as she and Johnny approached her, hand-in-hand.

"You betcha," Cordy said. "And this time he's got a little help from his friends. That greasy Stillson guy? One of his lackey's recruited Ethan."

* * *

Willow sat at her laptop computer at the hotel room table with Giles, Xander and Dawn surrounding her and Bruce and Walt sitting across from her. Her eyes were going wild reading the top-secret documents which she had hacked her way to. "Ethan Rayne was released from his high-security military prison with a pardon," she announced.

"Odd," Giles declared as he mused to himself. "Why would the President pardon Ethan Rayne?"

"Actually, it was different," Willow answered, shaking her head. "It-it doesn't really make sense. The pardon was signed by someone who usually wouldn't have the authority."

"Who gave him the 'get out of jail free' card?" Xander asked.

"A congressman from Maine," Willow responded, looking up from her computer with a baffled face. "Greg Stillson." Bruce's eyes went wide as he stared at her in bewilderment and sudden worry.

* * *

"Stillson?" Johnny repeated with near-surprise. "Since when does he dabble in the dark arts?"

"Since when does Ethan dabble in politics?" Buffy asked.

"You'd be surprised what people will do for money," Cordelia explained. "Ethan wasn't going anywhere without a pardon, and Stillson's people knew that he was the only warlock powerful and dirty enough to do them any good. They sprung him out free due to the fact that the Initiative isn't really there to stop him."

Buffy frowned in confusion. "So… is Stillson a vampire now?"

"No," Cordelia answered, granting them a sigh of relief. "Not yet, at least."

"Come again?" Johnny declared with a worried tone.

"They're planning a big resurrection that's going to make Stillson more powerful than you want to imagine," Cordy announced.

"Whoa, rewind," Buffy answered, wide-eyed. "Exactly _what_ are they planning?"

Cordelia began, "It's said that the most powerful vampire that ever could live would have to be both human _and_ demon. A living vampire. And once this takes place, the vampire no longer walks among ordinary demons. He becomes something _much_ greater… and much scarier."

"A living vampire?" the Slayer repeated. "That doesn't even make sense…"

"Does it have to?" Cordy shrugged. Buffy and Johnny gave each other terrified looks as Cordelia struggled to put it in perspective. "It's okay though," she added and began to ramble. "It takes a while to work. There's like a whole ritual. First, the demon has to possess a host and there's got to be a sacrifice of hatred before it can consume the host's soul. Then you have to kill the host and stop the demon, or save the host by making some sacrifice of love thingy and…"

"Wait," Johnny said, trying to stay calm. "What happens when this thing possesses Stillson completely?"

"He loses the little soul he has left," Cordelia replied, "_and_ becomes an invincible vampire god."

The two of them gave her a deer-in-the-headlights stare. "Oh," Johnny sighed as his problems amplified.

"Suddenly, I think I'm going to miss the disgusting politician in him," Buffy added with a mousy, quiet tone.

Johnny shook his head bitterly. "There's no way we can stop him then," he declared. "He becomes even _more_ powerful than he already is. He wins. Everyone dies."

"Well that's not the 'yay team' spirit," Cordelia frowned. "You wanted more power, Johnny. You've already got it." He looked up at her, stunned.

"Okay," Buffy warily requested, "now is _this_ the part where you explain why I'm getting more psychic and he's getting more Slayer?"

"What's happening to you two is way deeper than either of you could have imagined," she answered.

"What do you mean?" Johnny asked.

"Buffy," Cordy explained, "do you remember the exact date you became a Slayer?"

* * *

"June 6, 1995," Giles declared as he read through a file from the Watchers Council's records. He sat beside Willow as they both read the email sent from Andrew in England that Giles had requested. "The seers were alerted on this date and Merrick was assigned. Buffy was only fourteen."

"That's the night of Johnny's accident," Bruce repeated with understanding as he contemplated the eerie flukes.

"This isn't just a coincidence then," Dawn said as she looked up at Giles.

"That could be what's causing the disturbance," Willow answered with a bright, amazed smile. "The meeting of two champions."

"Champions?" Walt repeated.

"If they were indeed destined to be together," Giles replied, "then this is…"

* * *

"Fate," Johnny answered, staring at Cordelia in shock. Buffy held tighter onto Johnny's hand as she gazed down at the floor in incomprehension.

"Johnny," Cordelia said, "didn't you find it weird at all that just a year ago you couldn't walk cane-less without feeling like your leg was going to fall off and now you're running Scott-free?"

"You're telling me the hours of physical therapy were pointless?" Johnny reiterated.

"Welll... not _completely_," Cordelia tried to sound positive. "But just try not to think of the money."

Buffy asked with uncertainty, "So everything that's happened to me as the Slayer—"

"This goes beyond your destiny as a Slayer, Buffy," Cordelia replied. "It's your destiny as a human being. You two were meant to be together at this moment from the days that you were born."

"Which explains why I've been seeing your entire life," Johnny said, looking over at Buffy.

She gazed up at him, overwhelmed. "Everything we've ever done…"

"Led us here," Johnny finished. They stared at each other in stunned silence as he gripped her hand even tighter.

"You have to go now," Cordelia announced with a sympathetic tone. "While there's still time."

Johnny turned to her. "But we don't know—"

"You have everything you need," Cordelia declared comfortingly. "You'll make the right choice."

"You have to give us one more thing," Buffy said with firm resolve. "Armageddon, Cordy. How do we stop it?"

She stared at them both in silence as a frown formed on her face. Cordelia let out a tired sigh. "All right," she shook her head. "Just remember what I told you." In a flash, she reached out and touched them both on the chest, blowing them backwards with an enormous force

* * *

_Buffy lay unconsciously on the ground with her eyes closed as blood gushed from the left side of her throat._

_In the next instant, they could see the fires of Armageddon reverse themselves. They retracted over the Capitol and the Washington Monument, along with the whole of Washington, D.C., leaving the city unblemished and untouched._

* * *

Buffy gasped as she opened her eyes and let go of Johnny's hands, reeling back out of the circle inside the hotel room. Johnny's eyes opened as he reached for Buffy, trying to pull her to him. He folded her into his arms, calming her as she panted with horror and wide, teary eyes. Both of them were stunned beyond belief as they sat on the floor of the room in the darkness, the candles having been blown out a long time ago.

"It's okay," Johnny whispered. "It's okay… Everything's okay…"

"No," Buffy lightly answered with a shaky breath, confirming what they both knew to be true. "It's not." She looked up at him with the same fearful eyes that he'd seen before. "The only way to save the world," Buffy explained, "is for me to die."

He could hear the sound of his heart breaking as he gazed down at her wet, green eyes. Johnny felt as if he were losing everything all over again. His wretched curse was coming true. "No," he declared firmly. "No…"

"Johnny," she whispered, shaking her head with pity. He pulled away from her and came to a stand, beginning to pace around the room.

"This isn't happening," he stated in solid denial. "She's wrong. This isn't right. It doesn't make any sense…"

"You know the drill, Johnny," Buffy answered with a grim, yet calm tone. She wiped her tears and added, "If we see it, it's going to come true."

"It's not real," he boldly declared. Johnny faced her, kneeling down and grabbed her by her shoulders as he had dozens of times in her dreams. Buffy gazed up at his breathtaking blue eyes and saw the same strong and resolved man she remembered. He declared, peering into her eyes, "I won't let this happen."

"You heard Cordelia," Buffy whispered hopelessly, shaking her head. "This is the way it is."

"I don't accept that," he answered, shaking his head.

She softly and apologetically replied, "Johnny… You have to."

"No," he firmly repeated, but this time with more desperation in his voice. He pulled his eyes away from her, not being able to stare at those green eyes that saw straight into his soul. He gripped her arms tighter, like a child clinging onto his mother – not wanting to face the fear of his destiny alone. "I won't…" he whispered breathlessly, his voice full of agony and despair. Johnny's voice turned cold with hatred as the memory of Greg Stillson burying his fangs into Buffy's neck flashed through his mind. "I won't let him take you away from me. I… I…"

Buffy watched in anguish as his heart cracked and fell away with his words. Warm tears rolled down her cheeks as she gazed at him. "Please, Johnny…"

"There has to be some other way," he answered, looking up at her with a precious tone of slight hope. She only stared at him with a gloomy expression on her face as she shook her head in pity. He grabbed her face, wiping the tears away from her cheeks as Johnny felt tears coming to his own eyes. "I won't let this happen," he said with all the strength he could muster. His voice began to slowly break as he repeated over and over, "I won't let this happen… I won't let this happen…"

Buffy gazed at him in astonishment and wonder as he continued to hold her tightly. She closed her eyes as Johnny kissed her gently and lovingly. Their touch slowly began to mend their broken hearts as the caressed each other in peace and safety. Buffy wrapped her arms around his neck as Johnny held her close to him and they seemed to kiss for an eternity. They both realized how right Cordy was. Nothing that either had ever done had felt as right or true as their embrace.

For the first time outside of the gates of their visions and dreams, they became whole.

Johnny and Buffy suddenly broke apart as an explosion of shattering wood sounded out near them. The front door of the hotel room blew off the hinges and dissipated into nothing but splinters. Johnny turned towards the open door and the gang of vampires standing outside in the darkness as he wrapped his arms around Buffy instinctively and shielded her from danger.

"Uh oh," a brown-skinned, small vampire girl said as she stood with a twisted grin and a doll in one hand in the doorway. "Past sunset. Time's up."

A brunette vampire woman raised a pistol at Johnny and fired. "No!" Buffy screamed, but Johnny strength wouldn't let her react. He felt a sharp pain in his chest and looked down to see a tranquilizer dart sticking out of his navy blue shirt. A sudden force overtook him, stronger than any he'd ever known, as his body's weight became far too heavy for him to hold up. "Johnny!" he heard Buffy shout as the hoard of vampires rushed into the room towards them. Johnny collapsed on the floor and stared out at the slowly-rising moon. The sounds of loud voices and laughing screams became faint echoes as the world went black.


	11. Sacrifice

**LEGAL A/N:** _Buffy the Vampire Slayer_ and all characters belong to Joss Whedon, Fox, UPN and the WB. _The Dead Zone_ and all characters belong to Shawn & Michael Piller, Stephen King, Lion's Gate Television and USA Network. No profit is being made off of this and no copyright infringement is intended.

**NOTE FROM THE AUTHOR:** Sequel to Real. Post-BTVS S7 "Chosen" and post-DZ S4 "Vanguard"

**11: Sacrifice**

Johnny felt a strong tug on his arm. "John!" he heard a loud, familiar voice calling to him, but could only see darkness. "Johnny, wake up!" It was Bruce. Slowly, blurry, dark shapes appeared as his eyelids opened. Then suddenly, he was able to make out every shape and line very clearly, his eyes having adjusted almost instantly to the darkness as soon as he regained full consciousness.

Johnny groaned as he grasped Bruce's outstretched hand. He pulled himself up to a sitting position as he gazed around groggily.

"John, what happened?" Bruce asked with concern.

"Buffy…" he whispered. "Where's Buffy?" Johnny looked around to see the hotel room torn apart, a gaping hole where the front door used to be as the full moon sparkled brightly over the city skyline.

"She's gone," Bruce replied grimly.

"They took her…" Johnny declared with a worried tone. He grasped the edge of one of the beds and pulled himself to his feet. Without hesitance, he stumbled towards the doorway and walked out of the hotel room, gazing out at the parking lot to see nothing but Bruce's rental car parked outside. He yanked his body out of his daze, but could feel himself growing stronger as his raging blood began to boil.

"Johnny, you need to get to a hospital," Bruce said, rushing up to his side. "You're weak."

"No," Johnny breathed as he stared down at his hands. He squeezed his fists together, feeling more powerful than he ever had in his entire life. "I feel… strong."

Bruce stood back and stared at him in a mystified awe, uncertain of the change that he had obviously gone through. There was a fire in his eyes and soul that he'd never seen – especially not recently. Johnny snapped out of it and into action as he began to march down the sidewalk, brushing off his dusty black slacks and navy blue shirt. Bruce gazed around in confusion, then rushed over and followed Johnny down the sidewalk towards Bruce's rental car.

"They're going to kill her," Johnny declared, a cold resolve in his voice. "Stillson and Ethan Rayne are going to use her as a sacrifice."

"We've got time," Bruce observed. "You said she dies in front of that painting, right? Walt's with Buffy's friends right now and he's got NYPD all over the airport looking for Ethan Rayne. There's no way they're getting on a plane to L.A."

Johnny froze, his attention obviously elsewhere. He stared at a magazine rack as Bruce followed his eyesight to the smiling, victorious face of Greg Stillson on a local magazine. "Stillson's speaking at an art gallery," Johnny declared with shock, the puzzle pieces fitting together. He snatched the magazine up with horror as he stared at it in shock. "They moved the painting," he explained as he took off in a dash. "The painting's in New York!"

* * *

Buffy was yanked into a gigantic, musty, dark room by three vampires, their eyes a glowing gold light, thick with Ethan's spell. She struggled as much as she could, but could not gather enough strength to pull free. She had been weakened by a needle that they had shoved into her arm, despite her best attempts to fight off the sixteen vampires that were holding her still. Now it only took a handful of vamps to subdue her.

She grunted as she twisted around in their grips, but they eventually dragged her by arm, leg and hair to the center of the room. Buffy hissed and shouted as they pulled her to the ground and ripped her arms apart. Four crushingly strong hands grasped her wrists and dug them into the concrete ground as the Slayer felt the cold vampire flesh being replaced with cold metal.

Buffy stared around into the darkness as her eyes adjusted to the lack of light instantly. She was in the lower level of some sort of crate-filled warehouse and the ceiling was at least another story above her. No light from the sky was to be seen anywhere in the room as the vampires stepped back away from her. Buffy tried to stand but was yanked back down.

Buffy looked down at the floor and made out chains running from the cement ground to the iron shackles around her wrists. She could hear the creaky hinges of a door in the distance as it swung open. The room was suddenly flooded with light. She squeezed her eyes shut momentarily, and then opened them to see that her predictions were correct – she was inside a storage warehouse beneath an art museum.

Crates were stacked all along the walls, but had clearly been moved aside for something major. Buffy was near the center of the clearing, chained to the floor with shackles. On the floor around her, a large, ornate, circular symbol 30 feet in diameter was painted on the cement. In the absolute center of the circle, a ten-foot, crimson, highly-polished statue of a bony, lanky, bald demon with a widely agape mouth brandishing two rows of jagged teeth. The face of the demon was freakishly outstretched, reminiscent of Van Gogh's 'Scream,' and the body, yet muscular arms ended out with long, bony fingers with sharp claws at the end. One arm was extended towards the heavens while the other reached out for all who dared to gaze upon such a terrifying and kingly sight. A bizarre symbol was carved into the muscular chest of the demon – an eye in the middle of a pyramid. The only color besides a deep, high-gloss red was its two ebony-black eyes that glared at those who cowered beneath the statue.

"Ms. Summers," a casual voice declared from behind her. Buffy turned around to see a tall, lanky man in a black suit and tie with slightly long brown hair that was neatly combed back. He walked up to her smoothly, without a care in the world and in complete control of every situation, and extended his hand out to the demon statue. "May I introduce you to Utarefson."

Buffy didn't turn back around to face the creepy statue. It felt too real. Too alive as it is. Buffy's unfortunate past experiences with demon statues led her to believe that soon enough, it would be.

Instead, Buffy's attention was focused on Janus' ring – a red ring with a pyramid and an eye in the center. That answered one question.

"Who the hell are you?" Buffy demanded.

"Now is not the time to forget your manners, Ms. Summers," Janus replied. "But forgive me for forgetting my own. My name is Malcolm Janus. I've brought you here to help me."

"What have you done to me?" she spat in fury.

"Nothing permanent," Janus explained. "Nothing you haven't been subjected to before. An organic compound of muscle relaxers and adrenal suppressors." Buffy eyes widened as she recognized the answer from her past. Janus stared at her with a small smile, knowing that she knew exactly what was wrong with her and that it terrified her. "I believe it was used by the Watchers Council previously for a test. Not sure about all that, though."

Buffy's face grew darker as she began to face her grim reality. "I'm powerless," she whispered to herself.

"Look at me," Janus smiled. "I'm just wasting time. Let me introduce you to the man you're _really_ anxious to meet." Janus stepped out of the way as Buffy looked up at a handsome blonde man strolling towards her wearing a navy blue suit and red tie. The recognition of his face sent chills across her skin and down her spine. It was _him_.

"So here's the lovely lady everyone's been talking about," Greg Stillson declared as he slithered towards her with the utmost charm. He smirked ravishingly at her as he glanced her up and down. "I'd like to thank you for contributing to my campaign."

Buffy gazed at him in silent – stunned into awe with her overwhelming feeling of disgust. "You're the one," she said in bewilderment as she shook her head with pity. "You're the one who's responsible."

Stillson paused, staring at her confusedly as he tried to figure out how to react. He then let out a bemused chuckle. "Shoulda known," Stillson sighed. "All you Smith fans are nuts."

"You're never going to win," Buffy spat. "Johnny's going to stop you."

"You leave Johnny Smith to me!" he shouted in a sudden fit of rage. Janus gave him a chastising look and Stillson tried to calm himself down.

"You think just because you're all dressed up in fancy clothes this thing's going to _want_ to possess you?" Buffy spat with a disbelieving laugh. "Get real. You're nothing but a weak, worthless little prick—"

The back of Stillson's hand stingingly connected with the side of her face and she was silenced in astonishment of how much it hurt. Images shot through her mind of Stillson in youth and burned inside her skull as badly as those of Armageddon did. Her eyes squeezed shut as she tried to contain the pain. Buffy balled up her fists and opened her eyes, glaring at him lividly.

"See?" she smiled angrily. "You have to chain me to the floor to beat me. Weakness." Stillson glared at her as she continued, his insides boiling. "Your father knew it. Everyone here knows it. And you know it to." She stared at him defiantly as she declared, "You're a lot of things, but you'll _never_ be a god."

He glanced over at Buffy with dangerous eyes as he gazed at her, reveling in her vulnerability and helplessness. Just having him stare at her made Buffy sick to her stomach.

"Silly girl," he grinned. "I _am_ god." Buffy stared at him quietly as his twisted smile stretched. "Soon," Stillson whispered with a maniacal tone. His eyes gazed down to the left side of her neck, her long, blonde, wavy locks curtaining it. He pushed back the golden strands of her hair and gazed down at her neck, his fingers brushing her flesh.

* * *

_Buffy saw a dust cloud covering an open plane. In the endless cloud, the figure of a woman that had just regained consciousness appeared. She was a thin, short, gentle-looking, brown-skinned girl with dark, doe eyes and long, dark hair. She stumbled along and gazed around in terror, her face bloody and bruised. _

Out of the mist beside her, another young girl about the same age, with dark skin and the same, bloody bewildered look gazed out at the devastation. Next to her, two more girls, a blonde and a red-head stumbled out of the dust cloud. After that, dozens of more young girls of all races, shapes and sizes could be seen wandering around with terrified expressions and cries of help.

* * *

Buffy opened her eyes in confusion as she stared up at Stillson. She looked over at Janus who watched her carefully. "We survive," she declared, stunned. "Slayers survive." Buffy gazed down at the floor as her mind raced through her memories, "That's why Willow's spell worked… That's why we were able to turn the Potentials into Slayers… We were _meant_ to. There had to be more than one."

"What are you talking about?" Stillson scoffed.

Buffy didn't pay him any attention. Her mind was deep in contemplation as she continued speaking to herself, "The human race has to evolve to survive. That's what we are, Johnny and I. Evolution." She shook her head in astonishment. "Life always finds a way."

Buffy looked up at Stillson with a new, terrible thought in her mind. "Wait," she said to herself in confusion. "That doesn't make sense. It's not over? Killing me won't stop it… Why did Cordelia—?"

"Enough of this," Stillson snapped, shaking his head in frustrated confusion. "I've got a speech to give." He turned around and marched out of the warehouse as Ethan Rayne entered, wearing a black robe.

"I told you this wasn't finished, Slayer," Ethan grinned as he glared at her angrily. "Now you're all grow'd up. And you've never been more powerless."

An unknown man in a black suit and tie matching Janus' but with dark sunglasses approached Janus and whispered into his ear. Janus turned to Ethan and declared, "We have a situation. It seems Mr. Knox is dead."

"Pity," Ethan answered without the slightest care. There's not a bloody thing anyone can do now." Buffy gazed up at him witheringly without the slightest clue of how to save the world.

* * *

Xander walked up to the hotel room door as they heard loud, continuous banging. "I'm coming!" Xander shouted as he opened the door. "I'm — eh… great googly-moogly!" He found himself staring into the cold, angry face of Angel who stood in a dark grey suit and white shirt, staring at him irately.

"Giles," Angel said casually.

"Angel," Giles responded, coming to a stand as he, Willow, Dawn and Walt looked over at the door. "What happened?"

"Been busy lately?" Angel glowered. "I've been trying to call."

"What's with the 'tude?" Xander shrugged coolly. "No kiss, no hug?" In a flash, Angel reached out and grabbed Xander by the collar, pulling him towards him lividly.

"Angel!" Willow snapped as she came to a defensive stand. "Let him go," she quietly demanded.

Angel considered her threat as he gazed into Xander's eye and then shoved him away. Xander pulled himself together as Angel turned to Giles fiercely. "My friend died today," Angel hissed. "A very horrible death. Now I can't get her back. I would've told you this before, but you seemed to be busy. Couldn't get a hold of you for backup."

"I'm sorry," Giles answered honestly with compassion. "But what do you want me to say?"

"What I want you to say," Angel repeated. He strolled inside without the need of an invite as he continued with a sarcastic, angry smile and light-hearted tone. "Well, you see," he began, "I've been retracing my steps, rechecking the loyalty of my employees, trying to figure out where I went wrong and it all seems to lead back here to this city. I'd like you to tell me why you're all sitting on your asses tonight while Utarefson is being raised?" He looked over at Walt with a glare. "And who the hell are you?"

"Utarefson!" Giles repeated with deep concern. "Good lord…"

"Why is that bad?" Dawn asked.

Giles answered, "They need the blood of the Slayer to bring him forth."

"But not just any Slayer," Willow added. "I'm guessing one who's been tasted four times already?"

"Buffy?" Walt suggested in confusion.

"Buffy?" Angel repeated.

"Wait," Xander shook his head, "Buffy hasn't been…" He paused and began to count on his fingers until he got to four. "The Master, Dracula, Spike…"

"And me," Angel declared with growing concern.

"Oh," Xander answered. "I guess that's four."

"Oh, no!" Willow exclaimed. "She's the sacrifice!"

Walt's cell phone rang as he answered in, pulling away from the conversation as Dawn turned to Angel and rambled an explanation, "She ran away from a mental institution, then she came here, then she got lost with some psychic, then… it's a really long story."

"That was Bruce," Walt announced, hanging up the phone. "They're at the art museum on Ninth and Forty-Second."

* * *

Buffy pulled and struggled with her chains, but remained in her locked down position. She looked up as Janus exited the room, leaving Ethan alone. "Children of Utarefson," Ethan declared, outstretching his arms. "I call you forth now."

The double doors opened as a dozen vampires of all shapes and sizes entered the room. Each of them already vamped-out, they dazedly wandered in with a zombie-like expression. Their yellow eyes were glowing a gold color, the symbol of Ethan's hold on the demon inside of them.

Buffy gazed at them fearfully as Ethan signaled them around the circle. The twelve vampires moved to their positions around the ornate circular symbol as Ethan took his place at the head of the circle, facing Utarefson's statue. Buffy was chained to the floor in between Ethan and Utarefson.

* * *

"What's an Utarefson?" Walt asked as he sat in the back of Giles' rental SUV. Angel sat in the passenger's seat while Walt, Dawn, Willow and Xander remained in the back.

Giles answered, manning the steering wheel in the front, "The mythological god of all vampires. The first of their kind. According to legend, he is the purest and most perfect of them all."

"Legend?" Walt repeated.

"For thousands of years, that's all he's been believed to be," Giles replied.

"If this guy's so perfect," Xander asked, "why haven't I heard of him before?"

"Supposedly," Angel added, "he got fed up with the way the vampire race was becoming. So in an instant he just left, no one's really sure how or where he went. That's why people really haven't believed in him. They believe the whole thing goes along with the theory that modern vampires have become too civilized. Too human. Too detached from their inner demons."

"As if they're not scary enough," Dawn sighed.

Willow asked, "So they believed Utarefson was just some scary daytime story to tell vampires so they'll get back to their roots?"

"Precisely," Giles continued, with a nod. "The myth states that one could actually resurrect the god and possess a host with its divinity, if the host proved itself worthy. If successful, the host would become, in essence, the most perfect vampire in existence. He would be invincible."

"Okay, so let's say somebody tried to bring him back," Walt asked, still with a shred of disbelief. "What would 'the host' have to do?"

"There's a series of stages that they have to undergo to become possessed by Utarefson," Angel replied. "If it's incomplete, it won't work."

"So how do we do _that_?" Willow asked.

Giles sighed, shaking his head at a loss. "It is unclear."

* * *

Inside the art museum, a crowd of a hundred of New York's elite was gathered with champagne glasses and beautiful clothes inside the banquet hall, completely unaware of what was going on beneath them. A podium was set up with Greg Stillson's name posted across it and immaculate lighting for perfect picture opportunities.

In a hallway leading to the banquet hall, Janus and Stillson stood with secret security all around. Greg was busy fixing his tie and checking himself in a mirror being held out for him by a lovely, female assistant whom he was sure he had slept with at least once, but couldn't quite remember her name.

"Thank you, darling," he nodded to her, and she took her cue to leave. He turned to Janus. "Is everything on schedule?"

"The ritual has already begun," Janus answered. "Our security team has completely blocked off the north wing. No one but us will be going down into the storage unit below."

"What's the plan?"

"Promptly after your inspiring speech," Janus explained, "you will exit the banquet hall and proceed with security down to the lower level gallery and straight to the storage unit." Stillson turned as he caught a glimpse of two, beefy men at least a foot taller than he was wearing black suits and ties – part of their security team. One of them turned to him as Stillson could catch a slight glimpse of a flash of gold light in his eyes.

"I assume we have a _secret_ service helping us tonight?" Stillson asked.

"Vampires," Janus replied. "They're slaves to Ethan's words. They belong to us."

"The best situation, I might say," Stillson smiled. He straightened his jacket as he heard his name being announced outside.

"Ladies and gentlemen… the future of our nation – Greg Stillson!"

Stillson pushed open the doors and marched out, receiving the endless applause given to him by his adoring fans. With a practiced smile of charm and grace, he strolled up to the podium like a king among peasants. Soon he would be a god among ants.

* * *

"Slow down, Andrew!" Willow said as she held her cell phone for all to hear. Andrew Wells spoke to the car passengers through the speakerphone from England.

"Please," Giles added. "Now explain it once more… We haven't much time."

"Right, right," they heard Andrew's tiny voice replying nervously. He was flipping through the pages of old texts back in England, reading and reciting furiously. "The-There's a number of stages you have to go through for this to work. First, the possession - 'the demon shall enter and instantly begin to kill the host unless it is made clean with the blood of the lamb.'"

"Let's just scratch the lamb title and call her Buffy," Xander declared.

Angel asked, "What's next?"

"Second, the slaughter," Andrew explained. "'The host consumes the blood of the lamb… or, er, Buffy – but the host now must prove himself worthy to Utarefson.'"

"Self-righteous jerk," Xander scoffed, under his breath.

"Third," said Andrew, "the sacrifice of hatred. The host has to kill someone out of pure hate. This begins a countdown, sorta. Fourth is the transformation. 'The host begins to lose his soul as the demon inside becomes a god.' This is the last time at which the host can be killed before…'" The words faded away as Andrew stared at the page with fear.

"Before what?" Walt asked, frustrated.

"Andrew, go on," Dawn snapped.

"Sorry," he answered, his tone much darker. "The last phase is the ascension. 'The host becomes the god Utarefson, soulless, invincible, immortal and perfect in all ways. No being, living or dead, can defeat him.'"

"We can't let it come to that," Willow declared with resolve.

"You guys need to run," Andrew slowly added. "Your mission is futile."

"What?" Dawn exclaimed in shock.

"Thanks, Kirk," Xander scoffed. "I think we've got it from here."

"This will be worse than any demon ascension," Andrew exclaimed with worry. "When this guy Vader's out, everything within a fifty-mile radius of the epicenter will be gone. If you're there, you'll die."

Giles turned to Angel and the others, the passengers of the car giving each other grim looks of anxiety. "Leaving is not a luxury at our disposal," Giles answered.

"Do we have to kill the host once the ritual's begun?" Walt asked.

"No, the host can actually be saved by a… kind of an exorcism," Andrew answered, reading on. "But it's sketchy. 'A sacrifice of hatred shall bring him forth and a sacrifice of love shall cast him out.'"

"Oh," Xander rolled his eyes in disgust. "That is _so_ cliché."

* * *

"And what is a journey?" Stillson gently declared with a charming grin. His admiring guests watched him, hypnotized by his handsomeness, smooth voice and admirable features. "Is it simply distance traveled? Time spent?"

He gazed around at them all. "No," he smiled, shaking his head simply. He gripped the podium and announced with an emotional declaration, "It is what happens on the way. The things that happen _to_ you. And at the end of the journey, you're not the same."

Johnny Smith peered fiercely at Stillson from the back of the room as he slipped past security, Bruce Lewis behind him every step of the way. The psychic was wearing a navy blue blazer that he had swiped from the coat room to appear more presentable to the crowd as he tried to move his way through it unnoticed. Johnny glanced over at Stillson from across the room with a pent-up, burning rage as Greg smoothly pronounced his speech probably written by some kid Buffy's age. "Today," Stillson declared firmly, "is about change. Nothing will ever be the same. Nothing—"

Stillson's eyes found Johnny's and locked on him, a sudden feeling of alarm coming over the politician. He looked over at two security guards and signaled them into the crowd. The guards leapt into the crowd, pushing past people to get to Johnny while they shouted into their radios, causing a stir among the guests. Johnny turned to see the vampires headed towards him, then attempted to rush away towards the back.

Bruce looked over at Johnny, then towards the oncoming security. He suddenly made a decision and jumped up on a chair nearby. "Hey!" Bruce shouted, his voice distracting all in the room as the vamps approached. "Everyone! Let's give it up for Greg Stillson!" He began to clap wildly and hoot, "That was a great speech, man! Who else thinks so?"

His clapping grew slower as people gave him strange, quiet, motionless stares until his claps were non-existent. "No?" he quietly added, gazing around and soaking up the strange glares. The vampires approached him as he sighed, rolling his eyes, "Okay…"

Bruce pulled his fist back and punched one of the guards. His hand felt as if it was going to break, but that didn't stop him from tackling the other guard. Screams erupted as the crowd backed away from the fight as more guards rushed Bruce.

* * *

The vampire guards standing outside the doors of the museum turned back towards the shouts coming from inside. The call for backup sounded out on their radios, but the seven guards standing outside had troubles of their own.

Lightning flashed in front of them as a woman marched up the cement stairs to the front door, her hair blowing white in the night wind. "No, really," Willow smiled as they stared at her in awe. "I'm here for the convention."

Out of the corner of their eyes, they could see Xander, Dawn and Giles jump out of practically nowhere and rush them from the sides. The seven guards vamped out, their eyes glowing gold as they took on the four Scoobies. While the guards were distracted, Angel and Walt dropped down from the awning over the front doors, both of them going through the doors undetected.

* * *

"Utarefson!" Ethan boomed. "Hear my call!" A fierce gust of wind began to blow through the warehouse as the twelve vampires lifted their heads up to the sky. Suddenly, they each exploded into a cloud of dust that was taken up and carried off with the wind. The swirling clouds of vampire remains encircled the statue and when they came in contact, the red demon statue began to glow. A low, monotone groan could be heard throughout the warehouse.

* * *

The lights flickered inside of the lobby as Angel and Walt ran through it and up to the doorway of the banquet hall where they could hear shouting. They stopped in the doorway to see the chaotic scene. Walt saw Bruce being dragged away by three vamp guards, while Angel spotted the good congressman from Maine sneaking out into a hallway, being flanked by several black-suited guards.

"You know him?" Angel asked.

"Yep," Walt answered. "I'll help him—" Angel already was holding out a stake to Walt. The sheriff stared down at the wooden shaft in confusion and bewilderment, trying with everything he had inside of him to tell himself that this really wasn't happening. "Huh?"

"In the heart," Angel ordered as Walt took the stake and stared at it strangely. "Don't miss." Like a valiant stallion, he was off into the crowd as he rushed over to a wall and pulled the fire alarm.

Sirens rang out and lights flashed everywhere as the unsettled crowd broke into panic and began to stampede out of the doors. Angel ran through the crowd, disappearing down the hallway where he saw Stillson exit while Walt rushed over to Bruce's aid.

* * *

Inside the storage warehouse, Ethan paused and gazed around the room as the lights began to flash and sirens began to howl. The other remaining vampire guards looked around in confusion, the wind whipping their black jackets fiercely. "Take care of it!" Ethan barked at them, and the guards rushed off leaving Buffy and Ethan alone.

She glared up at him lividly as she appeared to be at rest in her crouching position on the floor. "We finally get to be alone," Buffy declared as Ethan stared down at her, the wind blowing their clothes harshly. "Now you can tell me how you fooled Stillson into thinking you were playing on his team."

"He's a politician," Ethan grinned. "They're always only thinking of themselves anyway."

"And you're not?" Buffy scoffed. "That's what this is all about – you. This spell you're working? It was never for Stillson, was it? It was for you."

"Since when do I care if some country bumpkin from Maine gets elected President?" Ethan spat in disgust. "Do you think _that_ is the kind of being worthy enough for Utarefson? The only thing he'll probably ever amount to is another Washington scandal ended by a self-induced bullet to the temple. Utarefson's is the power of the gods! That is a power no ordinary man can handle! Utarefson will only grace a true Champion."

"You're calling yourself a Champion?"

"I am a Champion," Ethan declared. "For the Powers of Darkness as you are for the Powers of Light. And in just a few moments, with your blood – I will be _the_ Champion. The only one left standing."

"If I were to die, Armageddon _wouldn't_ happen the way we saw it," Buffy concluded. "Because you would have your own Apocalypse."

"Precisely," he grinned. The wind picked up speed all around them as the room began to flash with red lightning as if a million fireworks were all around.

"There's just one problem with your planning," Buffy hissed with a half-smile.

"What?"

"I don't plan on dying anytime soon." She glared at him dangerously as a sudden look of worry came across his expression. "The difference between you and me is that I tend to get over my issues," Buffy explained. "Emotional and physical." With a thrust, she stood up and broke the chains, only leaving the shackles behind. Ethan gazed at her wide-eyed as she came to a defensive stand. Buffy soaked in his terrified expression, but it suddenly transformed into one of maniacal glee.

"I had hoped we would do it this way," Ethan grinned. He extended his hand out and electrocuted her with a force of magic from his arm. Buffy was thrown back several feet to the base of Utarefson. Groggily, she stared up at him as a sword suddenly appeared in his hands – one too familiar to be forgotten that burned in her memory.

"The Sword of Acathla," Ethan grinned, pleased as he brandished it. "The exact one that you used to kill the man that you love." He took in a deep breath and exhaled slowly. "Ah… that was always my favorite of your adventures. Well, anyway, I found it befitting to pierce your wretched corpse a while before I sacrifice you."

"A sacrifice of hatred," Buffy remembered.

"And the slaughter of the lamb," Ethan declared. "Two birds with one sword. And I believe I'm strong enough to beat you to a pulp before Utarefson awakens and takes the one of us who offers himself up."

"How do you know he won't pick me?" Buffy asked. "I'm cuter."

"Well," Ethan shrugged. "You'll be too busy screaming." He reared back his fist ferociously and punched Buffy, knocking her across the room.

* * *

Walt grabbed Bruce and pulled him away from his vampire attackers. He was still clinging onto the stake protectively, but had no idea of how to use it. "Bruce!" he called. "We've got to get out of here." Walt pulled back his fist and slammed it into the jaw of a vamp guard. Suddenly, the guard turned back around and roared at Walt in vamp-face. The sheriff stared at him, bewildered, and suddenly understood everything.

He gazed down at the tiny stake. "Screw this," he spat, pulling out his .45 pistol and shooting the vamp guard in the kneecap.

* * *

Johnny ran down a hallway leading to a flight of stairs that would take him down to the lower level. He came to an intersection of hallways and turned around, glancing behind him when he felt his body collide with another person.

* * *

_Johnny was standing with a broadsword raised high in the air. He was in some sort of dark, abandoned building and Cordelia, with straight, short, black hair at her chin was lying unconsciously and pregnant at his feet, dressed from head to toe in black clothing. She grimaced in pain as he raised the sword higher, his heart nearly breaking. He couldn't bring it down. _

Johnny was then standing in some sort of fancy, temple-like building with wide, marble floors and pillars. Wes was standing on one side of him with the platinum blonde vampire named Spike standing on the other side. In front of him, a thinly-framed woman with pale skin, long, blue-and-black hair, and bright blue eyes peered at him with alien-like curiosity, wearing a black-and-red, skintight bodysuit. He felt his stomach sicken as he stared at her, knowing that she could not walk around on this Earth alive.

* * *

He snapped out of it and turned around, facing a man he'd seen at the start of his journey in one of his visions. "Angel," Johnny exclaimed, staring at him bewildered. Angel stared at him strangely as well, as if he had sensed the vision too. Another meeting of two Champions.

Angel gazed up at Johnny peculiarly, almost as if he recognized him in some strange way. "Do I know you?" he asked. Johnny stared at him in silence as he considered the last two visions. What did they have to do with _anything_? But it didn't matter right at that moment.

They turned to see a handful of vamped-out security guards running towards them. Johnny turned to Angel with an all-business face. "Cover me," he ordered. "I'll get to Buffy." The vampire stared at him with a bizarre sense of trust, as if he knew this stranger before him.

He nodded at Johnny. "Go." Angel turned towards the oncoming vampires as Johnny rushed off down the staircase.

"Keep Stillson out of the basement!" Johnny called back as he disappeared down the flight of stairs. Angel took on the first row of vampires, knocking them out swiftly while retrieving a stake and dusting another.

* * *

Buffy was thrown through the double doors of the warehouse where the statue was left as it began to glow brighter than before. She crashed through the doors and into a closed-off wing of the gallery, landing hard on the tiled floor. Ethan came charging at her with the sword in hand as she lifted up her leg and kicked him across the face. He grabbed her by the ankle and threw her into another wall.

She came to a stand and kicked him in the stomach, ducking out of the way of a swing of Acathla's sword. She couldn't dodge the force of Ethan's powerful fist as he punched her into a clay statue on display as she and it came crashing to the ground. She looked over at it with exclamation and regret.

"Ooh… sorry…" she said, staring at the destroyed antique.

* * *

Giles cut off the head of the last vampire with his battle axe as he gazed up at the sky, the clouds brewing and spinning above their heads. He heard a strange metalic creaking noise and looked down to see it coming from his wristwatch. The hands of the watch were wildly spinning around all the numbers. "It's beginning," he announced. "Utarefson is coming." The other three stopped and gazed up at the sky with anxious expressions. They headed inside the lobby without any further hesitation, but were stopped by a new gang of vampires inside.

Willow sighed as she glared at the new obstacle. "Come on, Johnny. Stop this from happening."

* * *

Stillson swiftly marched down the hallway towards the basement when one of the guards in his entourage was snatched away and dusted instantly. Stillson turned around in shock to see Angel standing before him with stake in hand.

"Senator," he nodded politely, and then proceeded to attack the other three vampires with him.

* * *

"This is the end for you, Slayer," Ethan Rayne declared as Buffy came to a bloody and beaten stand, weakened severely with broken shackles on her wrists. The two of them squared off again and prepared for the next and last round of their fight.

"You can't defeat me!" he shouted with fury. Buffy charged at him as he punched at her. She blocked his punch and delivered two of her own. Buffy spun around and kicked him square in the chest, knocking him against a wall, but this didn't defer him any. He shoved his elbow into her face and back-fisted her, knocking her backwards and spinning her into landing on her stomach.

As Buffy pushed herself off of the ground, she felt a sharp stab in her back. She gasped and gazed down at the end of the sword piercing her stomach. Ethan twisted the sword inside of her, and then ripped it out violently, reveling in her agony.

She stumbled as she faced him and fell to her knees in utter pain. Ethan gazed down, victorious over her as he pulled back the sword and aimed for her neck. The Slayer gazed up at him in a daze as if the world was about to fall away from her and could slowly see the sharp, bloody blade of the sword headed for the left side of her throat. Buffy suddenly leaned to the right, the sword passing over her head.

She came to a stand with the last of her strength and ripped the sword away from Ethan. He stared up at her in horror as she pulled the sword back and decapitated him in the blink of an eye. The two parts of his body fell to the floor as Buffy slowly drifted down to her knees again as Johnny entered the room.

"No!" he shouted as he caught her before she hit the floor. "No…" he whispered as he gazed down at her bloody and broken state. Buffy looked up at him with a warm smile.

"I didn't…" she began, struggling to form her words. "I didn't… think that I'd ever see you again." Johnny sank to the floor cradling her in his arms.

"Buffy," he said, shaking his head. He was getting that familiar losing feeling again.

* * *

When the last vampire had been dusted, Angel turned to Stillson with a grin on his face. Angel pulled back his fist and punched Stillson in the face, throwing him backwards. He hit the ground as Angel slowly strolled up to him. Greg looked up at the wall to see a red button sticking out and his eyes found a metal railing across the ceiling in the hallway.

"I think now's a good time for me to establish my civic duties," Angel began casually and he walked up to Stillson. "Let me start by suggesting a few changes that should be made to the system." Stillson leapt up and slammed his hand down on the button. In a flash, a metal gate came down between Angel and Stillson, locking the vampire out and providing the congressman direct access to the stairwell.

Angel gazed at the gate in shock. Suddenly, he could hear Walt's voice calling to him from down the hallway, "Angel!" He turned around towards the direction of the voice, then turned back to Stillson.

"Looks like you haven't got the time," he grinned victoriously. "I sure as hell don't." Stillson turned and ran towards the staircase, leaving Angel locked out on the other side of the gate.

* * *

Now both the warehouse and the gallery were glowing red as the double doors whipped around in the strong wind coming from the statue. Johnny paid it no attention. He sat there with the love of his life in his arms, caressing her face as blood began to form at the corner of her mouth. He wiped it away, staring at it in disbelief.

"You have to kill me," Buffy whispered to him. He stared down at her in shock. "I killed Ethan. I already made a sacrifice of hatred. Utarefson's going to come for me… You can't let that happen."

"Buffy," he shook his head. He said the same thing that he knew to be true for a very long time. "I-I can't…"

"Please…" she cried in agony, her face twisting with pain. "I don't want walk around without a soul." She took another slow breath. "I don't want to be a monster."

* * *

_Johnny walked over to her, watching carefully as she stared at her Dark Willow in disgust and terror before she looked away suddenly, unable to stand the sight of someone that meant so much to her become such a horrible monster._

* * *

Johnny stared down at Buffy in confusion as the random memory flashed through his mind. "I didn't want to kill him," Buffy shook her head, tears running down her cheeks. "I don't know what came over me. I'm… I'm sorry."

* * *

_"Come to get me? Gonna feed me to Angel? You know you're never gonna take me alive." _

"Not a problem," Buffy declared with angry eyes, the eyes of a brutal killer.

* * *

Johnny shook the memory out of his mind. "Shh," he comforted as he held her tightly. "It's not your fault."

"Yes, it is," she softly whispered. "The world's still going to end. If not by Stillson… then by me."

* * *

_"How can you possibly help?" he heard Buffy ask._

* * *

"I _can_ help," Johnny affirmed. "I can stop him. We can stop him together."

Buffy looked up at him with a grim, knowing expression as tears rolled down her face. "I think it's time to say goodbye now," Buffy whispered. Johnny gazed at her, dumbfounded. She was dying… _now_. He had done nothing to change the future. Nothing made sense anymore.

"No," he softly replied, shaking his head. "You don't have to do this."

"Yes, I do," Buffy answered, forcing a half-smile on her face.

"You can't… I can't let you… I-I… need you…"

* * *

_Buffy looked down at the floor with a sigh of despair. Her head lifted up to face her friends as Johnny viewed her moment of pain. "It's not just the memories they built. It's physical. Dawn… is a part of me. The only part that I—"_

* * *

Her words were the screams coming from his broken heart.

"You don't need me," she smiled warmly. "I have to do this alone." The ringing of her last word brought him to a sustained pause. He stared down into her eyes as the memories of himself standing over a pregnant Cordelia with a sword in hand and in the temple staring at the demon woman with Spike and Wes flashed through his mind.

* * *

_"So here's the part where you make a choice," Buffy declared. _

* * *

Johnny gazed at her, and then turned around with an awed expression as he gazed at the statue of Utarefson as bright red clouds of mist began to float out of its mouth and drift towards Johnny and Buffy. The answer was so clear. He turned back towards Buffy with an expression of resolve.

"You're not alone," he declared, gripping her tightly. "I'll protect you." Buffy stared up at him in amazement with worshipping eyes as he leaned down and kissed her goodbye. They shared a bittersweet moment that seemed to last an eternity – a small fraction of what they wanted. "I love you, Buffy," he declared, gazing at her in peace. He pulled away from her and came to a determined stand.

"No…" she breathed, reaching for him. Johnny turned around and faced the mist with a defiant glare.

"Take me," he ordered. In a flash, the cloud burst and shot through Johnny's chest, the spirit of Utarefson entering his body. The lights exploded all around the gallery and warehouse as Johnny howled with torturing pain.

He fell to his knees as the demon entered his body, his chest heaving rapidly as his heart beat sped up to a dangerous rate. Johnny stared down at his chest and pulled open his shirt, revealing a burst of flame searing his skin. Buffy watched helplessly, but no longer thought of her own pain. She reached out to her suffering boyfriend as she pushed herself off the ground.

"Johnny!" she called as the last of the mist entered his body completely. The flame burned Utarefson's eye-in-the-pyramid symbol into Johnny's chest, replacing the cross symbol left behind from his previous vision. He fell forward to his hands and knees as he struggled to breathe, but could not keep himself still. His body began to convulse slowly and he felt as if his organs were melting.

Buffy crawled to him as Johnny squeezed his eyes shut, waiting for the agonizing pain to end. "No!" she screamed as she grabbed him and pulled him to a stand. "I won't let you die!"

Without another thought in her mind, she grabbed the back of his head and shoved his face into the left side of her throat with enough force that she drew her own blood. Blood poured from her wound into his mouth as his heart began to slow down. He felt himself drifting away from the world, getting farther and farther until he recognized that it was blood he was tasting.

He wanted to pull away. But he couldn't. The thing inside of him was stirring and awakening. The blood of the lamb was being consumed. Johnny's eyes suddenly popped open – his irises black as night.

In a flash he clasped Buffy's arms and pulled her closer as he buried his fangs even deeper into her throat, causing her to cry out a bit. The last of her strength was fleeting from her quickly as she grabbed onto his back in pain. His heart began to speed up as he drank her blood, his own blood rushing rapidly through every part of his body.

The rush was so intense that he did not realize that Buffy was losing her grip on him or that she was even Buffy at all. The images around him became blurry and undistinguishable. He barely even recognized La Musique Aux Tuileries hanging on the wall, or why it was important to him in the first place.

Buffy whimpered in torment, her fingers tightening as she scratched her nails helplessly across the back of her attacker, tearing four slashes into the back of his navy blue blazer. Blood poured down Buffy's shoulder as her head rolled back and she fell into her attacker's arms.

Johnny held her; still biting her on the neck for a few more moments until her body finally fell out of his arms and landed on the ground, her wound dripping with crimson life.

Johnny also fell to his hands and knees as he gazed down at the floor, his hands shaking. The images around him suddenly became clear – _very_ clear. He looked up at the world with demonic, blacked-out eyes as he gazed at the sharp colors and lines of La Musique aux Tuileries… memories coming back into his skull. He looked down at Buffy, who lay motionlessly before him with his eyes closed.

Johnny froze, not being able to pull his eyes away from the awful sight. He stared at the wound – the same he'd seen before in his visions – made by his own jaws. He gazed disgustedly at the blood draining from her lifeless body and cringed with an enormous amount of sorrow and regret. He wanted to shout and die all at once. He had destroyed the only thing left that belonged to him… the one good thing that had happened to him in a _long_ time.

He felt his heart tear into a thousand pieces. This was his destiny – to be alone. It was his actions that led him here. He gazed at Buffy, shaking his head in terror and heartbreak. A very human part of himself had died with her. There was a cold, livid, blood-thirsty vengeful demon left behind.

Slowly, the sadness disappeared from his eyes. A fiery sickness darkened his already ebony eyes that slowly burned inconsolably. The only thing left was an astounding abhorrence for those responsible.

* * *

_Buffy, wearing a knee-length, baby blue jacket, leaned over the body of a dead teenage girl with brown skin and a slash across her throat. Johnny stared at the body ominously as Buffy's heart broke. He stared down at her as tears welled up in her eyes._

* * *

Johnny gazed down at Buffy's body, feeling the same emotions that she had felt when she found Kendra – wanting more than anything in the entire world to punish the two people accountable. Greg Stillson… and himself.


	12. Purpose

**LEGAL A/N:** _Buffy the Vampire Slayer_ and all characters belong to Joss Whedon, Fox, UPN and the WB. _The Dead Zone_ and all characters belong to Shawn & Michael Piller, Stephen King, Lion's Gate Television and USA Network. No profit is being made off of this and no copyright infringement is intended.

**NOTE FROM THE AUTHOR:** Sequel to Real. Post-BTVS S7 "Chosen" and post-DZ S4 "Vanguard"

**_WARNING: THIS CHAPTER CONTAINS STRONG VIOLENCE. DISCRETION IS ADVISED FOR THOSE YOUNGER THAN 15._**

**12: Purpose**

Greg Stillson paced hastily down the darkened hallways of the lower gallery floor. He paused and gazed around in confusion. He had to be lost.

He was in a large room made mostly of stone and marble decoratively themed to be some sort of Victorian mansion. Stone pillars rose out of the floor to the high ceiling as lit candelabras hung off of the walls. A grand, ornate fireplace big enough to walk into and still be standing was the centerpiece of the room on the center-back wall. It was large and mighty enough to appear to be literally holding the entire room together. On every pillar and parts of the floor, long strands of emerald English ivy grew in plentiful bounds. Dozens of tables all across the impressive room were littered with Victorian-era statues. Medieval weaponry hung on the wall with a few paintings and family crests, all usually impressively lit.

However, the lights flickered on and off at this point in time, blanketing the majority of the room in darkness most of the time. He felt an overwhelming eerie feeling as he stood in the dark room alone and gazed around warily. Slowly, he began to walk backwards out of the room as a gust of wind blew through, jolting him. He stared up at the walls as one-by-one the candles blew out, filling the dark room with smoke. Darkness was folding around him, only fought off by the light pouring into the room from the doorway.

A portion of the light was suddenly eclipsed. Stillson turned around to see a figure his size and shape, torn and bloody, standing in the doorway as it heaved lividly. It was shaped like a man, but it certainly wasn't a man. It wasn't any of the creatures that Stillson had met in the few weeks leading up to that night.

He gazed at the shape in worried confusion, staring at it cautiously – not knowing what to say to it. It stood still, glaring at Stillson with resolve and inhuman form.

Stillson slowly shifted out of its sight – or he tried to. He ever-so-gently stepped out of his position, moving into the unknown darkness. He moved far enough so at least the shape wasn't staring at him directly. But the second Stillson was out of direct sight, the inhuman creature's head snapped and found him once more – keeping his eyes straight on Stillson.

"Who the hell are you?" Stillson demanded, trying to bring power and importance to his voice. He received no reply. "Didn't you hear what I said? Who are you?" The shape remained immobile for what seemed like hours. The senator gazed at it with growing fear and disturbance. Suddenly, within the span of a single blink of the eye, the creature appeared no more than a yard in front of Stillson. He jumped in terror as the creature simply shoved him on the shoulder with a single hand, a slight move powerful enough to throw the senator across the room.

Greg Stillson slid until he was at the base of the fireplace, at which the creature slowly strolled up to him. Stillson tried to crawl slowly towards the light, his body aching from the horrible blow. He looked up and found the creature once again standing over him. His eyes widened in terror.

There, standing over him, with blacked-out eyes and an open shirt revealing the Symbol was the demon who used to be Johnny Smith. On his face was the expression of a man who had lost everything twice in his life and now was about to get rid of the only thing left – his soul.

Next to them, the fireplace exploded into flames, the blaze extending out of the fireplace for a few moments before it recoiled and burned bright. Stillson shuddered in fear, the heat of the fire burning hot on his skin. He stared up at Johnny in absolute terror, nearly cowering in his presence.

"Who am I?" Johnny repeated, with a voice that was half his and half-demon. His hand suddenly appeared around Stillson's throat as he slowly lifted the man off of the ground, glaring into his eyes. Stillson gazed up at him motionlessly as he saw sharp, fanged teeth form the chilling words, "I _am_ god."

In an instant, Stillson was flying through the air as his back collided crushingly with a stone pillar.

* * *

Buffy laid on the floor motionlessly as Stillson's screams of agony rang out through the lower level gallery. Buffy's green eyes suddenly opened with a slight gasp. She looked around groggily to see Johnny nowhere in sight as red lightning flashed from the warehouse outside of the room.

"Oh, no," she whispered as she heard another shout of pain. She rolled over, the blood still draining from her neck and pushed herself off of the ground. Buffy sat up dizzily as her eyes adjusted to the shapes in the room, keeping one hand on her neck wound and the other on the floor, holding her up.

Her hand felt cold metal as she looked down and saw the Sword of Acathla resting on the tiled floor. "Help!" she heard from the distance, turning her head slowly to hear the sound. Buffy grasped the hilt of the sword and pulled herself up, running towards the direction of the screams.

* * *

Stillson was lying on the floor, his face back-and-blue and most of his body swollen from Johnny's fist. Johnny marched to him slowly, still ready for more, with fists covered in blood and wild eyes. Perhaps the most terrifying fact was that this monster was no longer Johnny Smith – even Stillson knew it.

"No…" he whispered in horror. "Please…" He rolled over and tried to crawl away only to be grabbed by the ankle. Stillson was flying through the air again and landed on his right arm. He howled as he heard it snap in at least three places.

"Stop!" Stillson shouted. Johnny was already over him as he unleashed a flood of brutal punches to the face and chest. He felt as if he were being hit with a truck over a dozen times – he lost count at twelve. The senator prayed that he would lose consciousness, but the prayers went unanswered.

"You are weak," Johnny declared, glaring down at Stillson's sobbing face. "You do not deserve to be in my presence."

"I'll do anything you want…" Stillson cried. "Just… please! Please… stop… please…"

Johnny suddenly had Stillson's left hand in the palm of his own. His fingers closed around his hand, crushing it into a thousand pieces as blood dripped from between Johnny's fingers. Stillson shrieked again in tortured agony.

"Would you like this pain to stop?" Johnny asked.

"Yes!" Stillson shouted. "Please, stop! Make it stop!"

"You don't deserve that."

"I know!" he cried. "I know! I-I'm a horrible person. I was wrong… You were right… Please, I'm sorry… Please!"

"Why didn't you think this before?"

Stillson gazed up at him in too much pain to think clearly. Tears rolled down his bloodied face as he stared up at Johnny in horror. "I-I don't know," he said, shaking his head. "But-but you made me see… I didn't think it was possible, but-but you did."

Johnny coldly ordered, "Stand up."

Buffy raced down the dark halls of the gallery until she saw a room lit by firelight at the end of the hallway. She ran towards it and stopped in the doorway to see Stillson standing in front of Johnny. Suddenly, Johnny's arm shot through Stillson's chest. He jerked upwards, frozen by the unimaginable pain.

Johnny stared at him with a twisted smile, relishing in the senator's weakness. "Don't _ever_ underestimate my power."

Buffy's eyes widened and her jaw dropped as she saw Johnny rip his hand back out, carrying a long line of bones. She felt her stomach heave upwards as she saw Stillson's body fold up and fall to the ground. If she were not paralyzed by terror and shock, she would have thrown up.

The monster before her opened his hand and dropped Stillson's spine on the floor, letting it fall lifelessly with its owner. A crimson sea poured out across the floor, flowing like a river towards the doorway. Johnny's dark eyes followed the steaming red liquid until it reached the legs of a terrified young woman. The monster stared up and caught gaze of the confused, horrified woman. She stared at him as if she could see him. As if she knew him.

Johnny's cold, expressionless face suddenly melted. He stared at the beaten young woman standing in the doorway with the sword in her hand. Tears welled up in her green eyes as she shook her head in disbelief. She whispered in agony, "Johnny…"

Johnny - that was his name. The way she said it brought back fond memories which brightened up his expression momentarily. The moment was gone as soon as he realized the gravity of his current situation. He looked down at Stillson's body, then up at the Slayer.

"Buffy…" he whispered with a river of regret. Buffy slowly began to walk towards him with jaw agape. Panting slowly, Johnny looked down at his blood-covered arms with growing disgust and horror. "No…" He shook his head, human tears welling up in his eyes. "No…"

Buffy was staring down at his chest as the burn mark of the Symbol began to glow white, his soul somehow slowly seeping through it. "Oh god…" she breathed in disbelief. She looked up at him as he gazed up at her in horror; he could feel his heart slowly hardening for himself and for all other things in the world except for Buffy.

"Buffy, I…," he shook his head in anguish. "I'm so sorry…" Buffy reached up for his face as he recoiled backwards away from her touch. "Don't," he said as a tear rolled down his face. "Please… don't forgive me."

More tears fell from her eyes as she wrapped her arms around him, embracing him against his will. In her mind were images of a horrible Armageddon that had absolutely nothing to do with Greg Stillson that she tried with all her will to shove away. He tried to pull away, knowing that she could see these things, but couldn't bring himself to. She rested her head on his shoulder as she tried to keep her sobs silent and her body from trembling.

Slowly, she pulled away and came to face him. She gazed up at him, caressing his face as he wiped away the trail of moisture on his cheek. "I love you, too," she whispered tearfully.

He stared down at her with eyes full of pity and sadness. "I know," he nodded, swallowing hard.

* * *

Giles cut off the head of an oncoming vampire guard reliquishing a dust cloud as several more rushed into the room and rushed into the adjacent ballroom. Beside him, a cloud of dust formed as Dawn killed another vampire. A crack of thunder broke his attention.

He turned around to see a bolt of lightning slam into the concrete ground outside, shaking the entire building. Another bolt of lightning collided with the ground next to the first. A rain of electricity began to pour. Giles stared up at the sky, then back down to the floor with growing anxiety and a grim expression.

* * *

"_Now_," Johnny said with a pained voice, "it's time to say goodbye."

Buffy looked up at him in silence, and nodded. She kissed him gently, his hands drifting down her arms to rest on hers. When they finally pulled away from each other, Buffy gazed down to see his fingers resting the hilt of the sword, Buffy's hand wrapped around it. She looked up to see Johnny with that familiar faraway look.

A few moments later, he looked back at her crushed face. He stared at her, taking a breath, and then he slowly closed his eyes. Buffy looked down, tears streaming down her face as she tightened her grip around the sword.

* * *

After yanking the end of his axe out of the chest of a vampire, he looked down at his watch. The spinning hands suddenly froze. The hands were rested on 3:07.

* * *

With a final heave, Buffy pulled the sword back and thrust it into Johnny Smith's heart.

* * *

Buffy laid on the floor motionlessly as Stillson's screams of agony rang out through the lower level gallery. Buffy's green eyes suddenly opened with a slight gasp. She looked around groggily to see Johnny nowhere in sight as red lightning flashed from the warehouse outside of the room.

Her eyes widened as she came to a clear understanding. "There's still time," she whispered. She reached over for something to pull herself up with.

Her hand felt cold metal as she looked down and saw the Sword of Acathla resting on the tiled floor. "Help!" she heard from the distance, turning her head slowly to hear the sound. Buffy grasped the hilt of the sword and pulled herself up, facing the direction of the screams.

Tears began to brim, having foreseen what was required of her. "I can't do that…" Buffy whispered. "I can't sacrifice him to—" The words cut off abruptly. She understood something else that had not occurred to her before. She turned towards the warehouse, the red light flashing randomly and the wind blowing her hair back.

* * *

Stillson was lying on the floor, his face back-and-blue and most of his body swollen from Johnny's fist. Johnny marched to him slowly, still ready for more, with fists covered in blood and wild eyes. Perhaps the most terrifying fact was that this monster was no longer Johnny Smith – even Stillson knew it.

"No…" he whispered in horror. "Please…" He rolled over and tried to crawl away only to be grabbed by the ankle. Stillson was flying through the air again and landed on his right arm. He howled as he heard it snap in at least three places.

* * *

Buffy strolled into the warehouse, tired and beaten as she gazed up at the red statue of Utarefson. Swirling red clouds encircled the statue as a fierce gust of wind blew around the room. She glared up at it in cold defiance.

"I figured it out, you know," Buffy announced, gazing at the motionless statue. "I know why the visions don't connect and make sense. They're not real. The Powers sent them to us because they knew we would figure out how to stop you."

The demon statue glared at her in frozen silence.

* * *

"Stop!" Stillson shouted. Johnny was already over him as he unleashed a flood of brutal punches to the face and chest. He felt as if he were being hit with a semi a dozen times – he lost count at twelve. The senator prayed that he would lose consciousness, but it did not come.

"You are weak," Johnny declared, glaring down at Stillson's sobbing face. "You do not deserve to be in my presence."

* * *

"And as for John taking Angel's place?" Buffy said as she stared up at the statue. "Got that answer, too. They knew I sacrificed Angel, the love of my life, to save the world. And they knew the truth – I could never sacrifice him again."

The statue listened to her quietly, boiling with anger as this unworthy slob continued to speak to him as if he were lower than her.

"Something else I figured out?" Buffy offered, matter-of-factly. "Johnny Smith is the second love of my life." She threateningly decreed, "And I will _never_ let anything hurt him. So here's the shocker – the Powers knew that, too."

* * *

"I'll do anything you want…" Stillson cried. "Just… please! Please… stop… please…"

Johnny suddenly had Stillson's left hand in the palm of his own. His fingers closed around his hand, crushing it into a thousand pieces as blood dripped from between Johnny's fingers. Stillson shrieked again in tortured agony.

"Would you like this pain to stop?" Johnny asked.

"Yes!" Stillson shouted. "Please, stop! Make it stop!"

"You don't deserve that."

"I know!" he cried. "I know! I-I'm a horrible person. I was wrong… You were right… Please, I'm sorry… Please!"

* * *

"Yeah, you're a big bad demon," Buffy sneered. "And you have every reason to hate me. I'm the symbol of everything you're against. I'm the complete opposite of you in every way except one."

Utarefson stared at her silently, curious as to what her next answer would be.

* * *

"Why didn't you think this before?"

Stillson gazed up at him in too much pain to think clearly. Tears rolled down his bloodied face as he stared up at Johnny in horror. "I-I don't know," he said, shaking his head. "But-but you made me see… I didn't think it was possible, but-but you did."

* * *

"There's a demon inside me, too," Buffy admitted as she dropped the Sword of Acathla on the ground. She stared down at the sword, then looked up at Utarefson defiantly. "And if it means Johnny's life… you can have it."

Buffy watched as the red light of Utarefson got brighter and brighter, then suddenly consumed her whole.

* * *

Johnny coldly ordered, "Stand up." Stillson did as he was told, coming to a slow, wary stand as he gazed at Johnny fearfully. Johnny opened his fist, stretching his hand wide. Suddenly, a red light shot through Johnny's chest.

He threw his head back and howled in pain. His skin began to glow red with light as his eyes reverted back to their bright blue color. The symbol on his chest began to glow and disappeared as the light inside of him became bright white before it disappeared.

Johnny fell to his knees, exhausted as he stared at his hands in wonder. He gazed around at his surroundings, enormously grateful that he had full control over his body and mind once more. He let out a small laugh, confident of Utarefson's absence.

* * *

The last vampire was dusted as Angel looked around the ballroom in amazement, the lights coming back on fully. Walt and Bruce, both of them covered in dust, gazed around in bewilderment. "What just happened?" Bruce asked, his jaw still agape.

* * *

"She did it," Dawn smiled warmly. She, Willow, Xander and Giles stood in the lobby as the wind outside stopped howling and the lights came back on.

Willow's hair changed back to its normal red color as she added with a relieved smile, "It's over. Utarefson's toast." They stood in bewildered awe as they gazed around the lobby.

"Well," Xander suggested after a few moments. "Who wants hot dogs?" They turned and gave him a stare.

* * *

Johnny reached up for his chest and felt the burn mark of Buffy's silver cross only. With a relieved expression, he slowly came to his feet. He looked over to see Stillson still cowering in the corner, completely unaware of the fact that Johnny was now back to his normal self.

"Buffy!" he exclaimed, as the memory popped into his head. Johnny looked back towards the doorway, then looked down at Stillson. He reared his fist back and knocked it across Stillson's face, knocking him out cold. He then turned around and began to run towards Buffy's aid.

He raced through the disabled security hallways until he came back to the gallery where he had left her. Johnny sped to a stop, gazing around and not finding her anywhere. He moved passed La Musique Aux Tuileries, his eyes batting from corner to corner until he looked inside of the warehouse. His eyes widened with terror.

"Buffy!" he shouted, rushing to her side. She was lying unconsciously on the floor of the warehouse in front of the dim statue of Utarefson. He cradled her in her arms and held his hand over her neck wound.

"Buffy!" he heard Giles' voice shout from the distance.

"John!" Bruce called.

"In here!" Johnny yelled back. "We need help!"


	13. Evolution

**LEGAL A/N:** _Buffy the Vampire Slayer_ and all characters belong to Joss Whedon, Fox, UPN and the WB. _The Dead Zone_ and all characters belong to Shawn & Michael Piller, Stephen King, Lion's Gate Television and USA Network. No profit is being made off of this and no copyright infringement is intended.

**NOTE FROM THE AUTHOR:** Sequel to Real. Post-BTVS S7 "Chosen" and post-DZ S4 "Vanguard"

**13: Evolution**

Stillson sat, bruised and broken, on a chair in his hotel room as the sun was rising that morning. His aides surrounded him as they carefully sewed up his face. Janus stood nearby with his arms crossed and his unhappy face to the floor. A doctor was examining his shattered hand while his other arm rested in a cast.

"I want him to pay!" the senator hissed. "That nutcase almost killed me! I want the police all over it! I want Johnny Smith's blood—"

"You're not going to get it," Janus simply replied.

"What are you talking about!" Stillson exclaimed. "Don't ever tell me what I can't have—"

"Greed is a sin."

"Don't feed me that crap," Stillson snapped.

"If you go public with this," Janus answered, "you'll be even more ruined than he will."

"What are you talking about?"

"What do you plan to tell the press, Congressman?" Janus asked, staring up at him calmly. "That the TV psychic Johnny Smith was possessed by a vampire god that we were trying to resurrect and left you with those fractures?"

Stillson opened his mouth to answer, but then closed it slowly with nothing to reply.

"Our plans failed," Janus admitted, "but there _are_ other ways. Johnny Smith no longer has the power that he once did… and Miss Summers is completely powerless."

"Powerless?" Stillson repeated. "Well I oughta show her what happens when you mess with Greg—"

"With all due respect, Congressman, she lost them saving your skin," Janus replied. "You won't show her anything." He stared up at him, silenced again as he continued, "She gave up her powers to exorcise John Smith of Utarefson. It was the Sacrifice of Love. If she had not done it, we'd all be dead right now."

"So why does this matter to me?" Stillson snapped, frustrated.

"She can't do any good to Johnny Smith now," Janus explained. "The world is your oyster… because the greatest Slayer it has ever known is gone."

* * *

A cold, Northeastern wind blew through the air, pushing the scent of the not-so-distant Atlantic into Buffy's nose. She sat on the passenger's side of the vehicle, watching the trees go by with a peaceful expression as she sat in silent contemplation.

The car came to a stop as she looked up at a large, beautiful, two-story house with a lustrous rose garden and grey cobblestone walls.

"We're here," Johnny announced with a smile, looking over at her. She turned to him with a half-smile.

"Nice place," she declared.

"Thanks," he smiled. "Let's try not to break it."

She gave him a shocked look. "Are you implying that I'm a destructive person?" she teased.

"Oh, no," he shook his head. "I mean… you left Sunnydale practically spotless, didn't you?"

"Unfair."

They stepped out of the car as Johnny moved to the rear of the Jeep, opening the trunk. Buffy closed the passenger side door and wandered idly down the driveway leading to the front door, staring up at the house. She paused halfway, staring up at the enormous blue sky above her as peaceful winter clouds rolled over her, carrying promise of a coming snow in the not so distant future.

She closed her eyes as the sun shined down on her face, the cuts and bruises still visible just a few days after her the traumatic events in New York. The wounds would soon become scars and the bruises would eventually vanish, but not as soon as they would if she still had her Slayer powers. It was something she had come to terms with.

A cool wind blew passed her as she stared up at the endless sky. She felt a shiver in the depth of her body.

"Cold?" she heard from behind her. She turned to see Johnny standing beside her looking upwards with her suitcases in hand.

She wrapped her arms around her white sweater and the beige suede jacket over it. "I'm fine," she smiled in reply. "Thank you." She turned back towards the sky, but it wasn't enough to hide her emotions.

"Is everything all right?" he asked. Buffy turned towards him and realized that there was no point in hiding from him. She didn't really want to anyway.

"You know, I used to think that I would be happy to lose my powers," Buffy stated as she looked up at him. "And then I knew I wouldn't be able to walk in the world if I was helpless." She looked out towards the rose garden, the smell of flowers filling her senses.

"There are a lot of words to describe you, Buffy," Johnny replied, turning to her, "but 'helpless' definitely isn't one of them."

Buffy smiled a bit as she considered his words. "I believe you. And now I've got to realize that… that it's just not my turn to play hero anymore." She faced them with a thoughtful nod. "I'm Buffy the Sidekick. And that's okay."

Johnny smiled, shaking his head a bit. "No one in their right mind would ever let you be the sidekick." His blue eyes settled on her face as she smiled at him warmly, gazing up at his face.

"You think?"

"Remember who you're talking to?" Johnny answered. "I know." She smiled and turned away as she looked back out at the Smith property. "So tell me one thing," he asked. Buffy looked back at him as he continued, "How does it feel to be normal? Peaceful? Scary?"

"Exciting," she answered, drawing a stunned look from him.

"I may be psychic," Johnny replied, "but I've got a funny feeling you're still gonna surprise me."

"You should try to keep up," Buffy answered as she picked up her own heavy suitcase and turned towards the front door. "Shall we?"

Johnny grabbed the other suitcase as the two of them made their way up the driveway to their front door. "Well," he sighed. "I guess I had fun being Slayer as long as it lasted."

"It was pretty wild playing Nostradamus myself," she answered. "Except for the terrifying, skull-splitting visions. Speaking of which – how can we be sure that everything's gone back to normal?"

"The old fashioned way, I guess," Johnny replied, as they neared the awning. "Wait." They came to the front door as both of them put down their suitcases as Johnny retrieved his keys.

She grabbed his arm and gave him pause, looking up at him gratefully. "Thanks for letting me stay a while to recoup."

Johnny stared at her motionlessly. He made the mistake again. He looked into her eyes. "Uh," he replied, snapping back out of it. "No problem." He smiled with a small laugh. "Really. Rome's kind of far anyway."

"Yeah," Buffy nodded, her face sparkling with smiles. "And there's that whole 'wanted-for-escaping-a-mental-institution' thing that's kinda following me around."

"So we should take our time," Johnny suggested slowly, grinning at her warmly.

She stared up at him in silence with a growing smile. "Yeah. We should." He opened the door and moved out the way letting her in first. Buffy walked through the threshold and was greeting by the grand oak settings of the foyer. She turned back to Johnny, "You know—"

A snapping sound rang out as Johnny's hand shot up in the air, snatching an object as it came speeding towards Buffy's head. Buffy whipped around to view the object in his hand. Johnny looked over at his closed palm, not even having seen the object fully before he grabbed it on reflex. His fingers were tightly wrapped around a long, sharp arrow.

Buffy's eyes moved up from the arrow pointed at her face to the mounted crossbow on the wall, getting yet another strange feeling of déjà vu. Instantly, the gravity of the situation occurred to her fully. She looked over at Johnny with astonishment.

Johnny stared down at the arrow in his hand, bewildered himself. His eyes widened a bit as he gazed at the arrow, counting the speed and agility at which he pulled the arrow out of the air. He had not seen a vision since that morning when he filled the Jeep up with gas. He had not seen it coming at all.

Distant thunder rumbled in the sky overhead – the low, baritone sound finding them as they stood motionlessly in Johnny's foyer.

"Close the door," Buffy warily said after swallowing hard. "There's a storm coming."

His fingers tightened around the arrow as Johnny nodded knowingly. "I'll protect you."

* * *

_**THANKS for reading my story! Please review and tell me what you thought!**_


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